


Red

by burrfication



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Bandits & Outlaws, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Slow Burn, although both are toned down tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2019-09-28 08:49:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 71,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17179787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burrfication/pseuds/burrfication
Summary: When Alexander Hamilton comes to Burridge, he has just one thing in mind: finding and executing the outlaw that murdered his friend. Instead, he finds himself at the outlaw's mercy and forced to question everything he thought he knew.Or: A slow burn multi-chapter Hamilton/Burr story, inspired by Western tropes. I'm putting a blanket warning down for setting appropriate violence, but I'm more than happy to provide specific warnings if people need them.





	1. Strangers

When Alexander Hamilton was fifteen years old, he made himself a promise. He would not waste his life on one tiny island. He would go to America, get an education, and make something of himself. He was not entirely sure what that something would be. He liked the idea of practicing law, or politics. Both were respectable careers. Both would earn him a lot of money, something he cared very much about, and both would make great use of his talent for arguing. His tendency towards blunt honesty would not help him, but he had time to learn to manage that. He would learn to manage that. He had the potential to be something great. All he needed was a chance.

At age nineteen, Alexander had his chance. He stood in front of the Board of Admissions for Kings College and made his case. He was persuasive, impassioned and delivered his speech flawlessly. He would be an asset to the college, he argued. It was in their best interests to give Alexander a chance to prove himself and take his place amongst the Kings College alumni.

After thirty five minutes, he was kicked out.

Alexander did not give up. He tried the next college, and the next. Time and time again, he heard the same old story. Alexander was an immigrant, and a poor one at that. No American university wanted to take a chance on him, no matter how brilliant he was. He did not want to let the rejection get to him, but as his funds dwindled, so too did his options. After six months, he found himself on the streets with no job, no food, and no money. Alexander was crushed. If Alexander had had the cash for a ticket home, he might have given up: but the cold, brutal truth was that he did not have that luxury. He had no home to return to. There was no one who could help him, no one who would give him rest and shelter and let him get back on his feet. He needed a job, any job, if he was to survive. 

It was a cold, rainy night when Alexander’s luck turned. The night did not start well for him. The tavern he was staying at was dull and dingy and falling apart. The air smelled sour and the beer tasted like piss. It had been all Alexander could afford, and he was not convinced it had been worth the pennies he payed for it. If not for the rain and wind howling outside, he might have taken his chances on the streets. But he had not, and he was halfway through his evening meal when three strangers burst in. The tavern, already quiet, went silent. The strangers were armed and carried with them large sacks.

“Hand over all your booze and valuables, and no one gets hurt.”

Alexander nearly laughed. He wondered how desperate these criminals must be to be robbing an establishment like this. He had very little valuable to give up. His purse was almost empty, and the only valuable thing on his person was his mother’s wedding ring, kept on a cheap but sturdy chain. The ring could have bought Alexander many things, but he had not given it up. It was pride, not sentiment, that had kept him from selling it. He had loved his mother dearly, but she had been dead for nearly a decade. He could part with the ring, if not for the shame that came with reaching such a low that he needed to pawn his last keepsake to keep going. And so, hungry or not, cold or not, he kept the ring. One thing was certain: if he would not sell it for his own benefit, he’d be damned before he gave it up to petty thieves. 

While the other patrons complied, Alexander dropped to the ground. He crawled across the floor, trying not to gag in disgust at the potent stench of beer and piss seeping up from the floorboards. Every time he made any sound, Alexander froze. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and more than once he questioned what he was doing. He had no gun. He had no idea how to fight. But he did have a knife, and stubbornness, and nothing to lose. That had to count for something. 

No one noticed Alexander’s slow creep across the room. He dispatched his first target easily, covering the robber’s mouth with one hand as he slipped his knife between his ribs. He stood still for a moment. The man died in his arms, still standing. Before Alexander could figure out how to proceed, the door opened behind him with a thud. The two remaining robbers turned, their weapons drawn. Alexander did not wait for them to shoot. He picked up the gun of his first victim and fired three shots. More shots echoed through the room, enough that Alexander could not say how many there were. When he turned his gun on the last target, he saw red blooming across his chest. A moment later he plummeted to the ground. Alexander heard heavy footsteps behind him. A moment later, he felt the unmistakable press of something metal against the base of his skull. Alexander gulped. 

“Don’t shoot. I’m not with them.”

There was a pause. “Drop your weapons.”

Alexander did so. His knife and gun cluttered to the floor. The body he held fell with them and hit the ground with a sickening squelching sound. Across the room, he heard a laugh. A tall man stood up, wandering towards Alexander and the man behind him. He moved slowly, but it was not the slow, timid creep of someone who was afraid. He meandered forward as though he had all the time in the world and spoke with a thick French accent.

“He is an interesting character, this one. At first I thought he was trying to escape, but instead he used the opportunity to attack our friends.”

Alexander gulped. He had all of five seconds to panic before the gun at the back of his head disappeared. 

“Turn around,” the man behind him said. For once in his life, Alexander obeyed without question. He found himself staring up at a man who was easily twice his size. He wore a large coat several decades out of fashion and carried a silver pistol. After several seconds staring at Alexander, the hard look in his eyes softened. He gestured to the nearest table with the pistol. “Have a seat, son. Let me get you a drink.”

The next hour was never more than a blur in Alexander’s memory, but the outcome was crystal clear. The stranger, a man named Washington, ran a successful freelancing agency. The name for their work varied from state to state. Some called it mercenary work, others said they were bounty hunters, or rangers. The end result was the same. When an outlaw was too dangerous for the authorities to arrest, it was men like Washington who were sent to bring them in. It was hard work, and not always glamorous, but it paid well. And most importantly, they were hiring. 

Washington took Alexander with him that very night. His assistant, the French man, went on ahead to arrange space for one more at their accommodation. On the way, Washington lectured Alexander on the risks of the job. Alexander hung on his every word. This may not be the life he had wanted, but it was his only chance. He intended to make the best of it. 

To Alexander’s surprise, he proved to be remarkably skilled at his new job. A quick mind was as much an asset here as it was in academia, and even if Alexander would have preferred more scholarly pursuits, he could not deny the thrill of the chase. He liked best the cases with an edge of mystery. Acting as a private detective came more naturally to Alexander than brute enforcement, but he was skilled at both tasks. It helped that he was a keen marksman and knew how to fight dirty, but it was his skills as a strategist that made him invaluable. Alexander never walked into a trap. He never made the same mistake twice, and he often managed to take down his targets without spilling a drop of blood. He was the best agent under Washington’s command, and he knew it.

By the time Alexander was twenty-two, he had become Washington’s right hand man. When he was not being sent out on missions, he remained by Washington’s side at their main office. He handled clients from every state, managing everything from finances to correspondence. It was an open secret that he was being groomed to take over the business when the time came. Washington had no children. However much Alexander may loathe seen as a surrogate son, he could endure it for the salary he was afforded. One day, Washington hinted, they may have enough set aside to send him to college. That promise was enough to win Alexander’s loyalty for good. 

Many of Alexander’s colleagues resented his favoured position, but he did not let it bother him. He had a small circle of friends he trusted with his life. Among these was a man named John Laurens. Laurens and Alexander were all but inseparable. They shared an apartment together near the main offices and worked together as often as not. And if Alexander occasionally broke decency laws with the women he brought home, he had no reason to fear. Laurens’ transgressions were much more severe than his own, and Alexander would go to his grave before he let anyone know of Laurens’ secrets. Laurens would do the same. The agreement was unspoken and unbreakable. 

Years passed, mostly uneventful. There were highs and lows, but nothing Alexander believed particularly life-altering. He had not found the glory he had dreamed of, but he had found stability: and to his surprise, that was almost as good. He was happy. 

Once a week, Alexander received a shipment of newspapers. He liked to keep an eye on any active cases, and the newspapers were the way to do it. Sometimes he would spot some glimmer of information an agent had missed. Other times he had the simple pleasure of finding out about a successful case before the agent had even returned. It was not the highlight of his week, but it was a task he found relaxing. He made a ritual of it. He would sit down in the late evening with a pint and read. Some of the papers were thick and heavy; others were only a single page. He kept a particular eye out when one of his friends was away, always eager for news of their return. 

On the 17th of March, Alexander opened the Michel’s Creek Times and found himself staring at a photograph of a corpse. That itself was not unusual. Plenty of towns had murders report, and papers were printed to sell, not to discreetly inform. Still, Alexander thought, this poor soul had gone through hell. Even in black and white, it was easy to see his coat was drenched in blood, and he had been beaten so badly it was a miracle anyone had been able to identify the body. His face had been brutalized beyond recognition. Atop his head sat a hat. Once noticed, it could not be ignored. The hat filled Alexander’s vision, even as he cast his gaze frantically over the rest of the image, praying for a sign he was mistaken. But no, the hat was familiar for a reason. It went with the wedding ring on the man’s remaining hand, and with the broach pinned to his chest. The feeling of dread that had built in Alexander’s chest burst, flooding his limbs and head with a peculiar tingling. Alexander was staring at the body of John Laurens.

The rest of the article (when Alexander had the strength to read it) confirmed it. He felt a sob building in the back of his throat. No one, the paper claimed, knew exactly what had happened - but they knew enough. Laurens had gone to Michel’s Creek and on to a town called Burridge in search of a particularly infamous outlaw. Somewhere between the two towns, he had vanished. That alone had not been enough to concern Alexander - Laurens’ methods were unorthodox, and he had a bad habit of dropping off the radar without warning. It had been inevitable in this case, as the man he was chasing was no ordinary citizen. The outlaw was known only as Texas Red. The bandana which covered his face was red, and the leather jacket he wore at all times was a bloody crimson. He had stolen his horse from under the watchful eye of a rich Texan land owner, and although it was not his most notorious crime, it had fuelled the rumour mills for long enough that ‘Texas’ had become part of his nickname. His actual name remained a mystery. 

Despite his fame, Texas Red faced little opposition from the law. He came and went as he pleased. He took what he wanted, whether it was alcohol, weapons, or women. The bounty on his head had tripled when he had kidnapped the wife of a local sheriff, but even that had not been enough for most bounty hunters to take the bait. Nearly a year passed before Washington had picked up the contract, and even he had hesitated. Every last person who had tried to track down Texas Red had died. And now that number included Laurens. 

That night, Alexander made himself a promise. He would hunt down the man who had killed Laurens and he would exact revenge. He would not go immediately. As much as Alexander longed to set out that very night, he was not so naive as to think it wise. He would take his time. He had research to do, and in any case he could not abandon the business. He would have to train a replacement, and somehow convince Washington that his mission was not a suicide mission. It would not be easy. But before long, Alexander promised himself, he would have his revenge.

It took a full year for Alexander to put his affairs in order. Some of the tasks were easy. It did not take him long to make his will: he did not have much, and he gladly left every last cent of it to Washington. He had no wife or children to think of, and anyone else he might have left things to was dead. Alexander arranged to put his belongings into storage, and wrote letters to what friends he had. 

Unsurprisingly, convincing Washington proved to be the most challenging task. He had a stubborn streak that rivaled even Alexander’s own, and a short temper to boot. He made it plain he did not want Alexander to leave. He tried every trick in the book to make him stay, from offering him a raise to introducing him to various eligible young women to firing him. None of it worked. Alexander gave back the money, rejected the women, and turned up to work the day after he was fired as if nothing had happened. Not even the allure of college could dissuade Alexander from his chosen course. He had made his decision, and he would see it through with or without his mentor’s approval. 

On the final night together, they argued. Arguing turned into a shouting match, and instead of a fond farewell, Alexander said goodbye by hurling insults at Washington and storming out the room.

The bitter parting haunted Alexander’s thoughts all the long train ride to the West. He began and discarded half a dozen letters. Frustration whirled like a maelstrom inside his head. Writing was what Alexander did. To find himself in a situation where he did not have the words to express himself, let alone to remedy the situation, was a torture unlike any other. Every abandoned letter he stuffed into the very bottom of his traveling pack. Perhaps later he would be able to revise them with a clear mind. For now, all he had to do was focus on the task at hand. He had an outlaw to hunt.

The town of Michel’s Creek loomed in front of the sunset as the train pulled in to the station. It was a small town, indistinguishable from the dozens of remote communities the train had sailed past on its way to the middle of nowhere. Alexander disliked it immediately. He had never seen the appeal of small towns on the wide open plain. When other people saw the endless plains as filled with potential, Alexander saw only dust. There was no life to these places. He hated everything about small towns, from the quaint architecture to the slow-paced lifestyle. Very few people had a proper education, and those that did were not on Alexander’s level. Worst of all, everything about Alexander from his dress to his mannerisms to his sharp-tongeued wit marked him as an outsider. Being marked as such made Alexander’s life much more difficult, as people were slow to trust strangers. This was true in the cities, and even more true out in the country. To many of them, Alexander’s mere existence was a threat to their way of life. They mistrusted him, and he returned the sentiment. 

Michel’s Creek may not have been Alexander’s final destination, but it was as close as the train could take him. It would be three day’s ride to Burridge, and the hour was late enough that he could go no further before dusk. His quarry would have to wait. The local inn looked comfortable enough, and it provided a good opportunity for Alexander to get the lay of the land. Local gossip had often proved a more valuable source of information than the sheriff’s office. Certainly Laurens claimed to have had more luck with gossip in his last letter to Alexander. Alexander would pick up where he had left off. All Alexander had to do was make sure he did not stumble into the same trap that had killed his friend. 

The sober thought gave Alexander pause. He was betting his life that he would not make the same mistake his best friend had. Was he better than Laurens had been? He was smarter, that much was certain, but Laurens had been gifted with plenty of other skills Alexander did not have. He had not been an outsider like Alexander was. He could fit in with men from every stripe of society. When duty called, he could even put aside his passionate political beliefs and echo the views of men like his father - at least, for as long as it took to get information. And unlike Alexander, he had something of an education. He had studied medicine, and proven good at it, too. If his family’s fortunes had not fallen so far during the war, he might have been an academic. He would have been welcomed with open arms. 

The rooms at the inn were small but clean. Alexander’s room was furnished with a narrow bed and washbasin, with only a tiny window overlooking the street below. It was the bare minimum, but the bare minimum was all Alexander needed. He left his suitcase tucked under the bed before walking down to the bar to drink, eat and gossip. 

The bar was full and rowdy. A band played a cheerful tune, and a crowd of drunks cheered and clapped along. The only free seat in the entire room was in a corner, next to a dark skinned man watching the celebrations from under the brim of his hat. Despite the smile on his face, Alexander was not surprised he had no acquaintances with him. There was something unsettling about him. It may have been the pistols strapped to his hip: not hidden, but Alexander would bet his last dollar the man had plenty of hidden weapons. Each pistol was marked with more notches than Alexander could count at a distance. The sight made him feel queasy. He had never liked the habit some men kept of counting their kills, and seeing so many lives marked down made him uneasy. But with nowhere else to sit, Alexander had little choice. He approached the stranger with a winning smile.

“Can I join you?”

The stranger looked him up and down. The smile on his face twisted into a crooked expression. “Something tells me you’re going to do so regardless of what I say.”

The man’s voice was smooth and melodic, a fact that surprised Alexander. He’d have expected a low and rough grumble. Even his response was less antagonistic than Alexander had expected. His words were not welcoming, but there was a warm undercurrent of humour in his voice that set Alexander’s nerves at ease. The stranger was amused, and not as opposed to company as his posture seemed to suggest. Perhaps this would not be as painful as Alexander had expected. 

“It’s this or join the others dancing,” Alexander said, gesturing to the impromptu dance floor behind him. The stranger chuckled. He gestured to the chair beside him.

“Then by all means. Perhaps you can tell me what’s happening back on the coast.”

“What gave me away?” Alexander asked ruefully.

“Your accent. Your clean boots. And you sat with a stranger. Most people in these parts know each other, and they tend to stick together.”

“You’re sitting alone.”

“I’m not a local. I pass through often enough, but I’m leaving later tonight. But I’m curious to have news from further afield. Where did you come from?”

“New York,” Alexander.”I’ll give you your news, but you’ve got to answer some questions for me.”

“Typical,” the man snorted. “I should have known there’d be a price. But it’s a fair one. You can ask your questions.”

He flagged down a barmaid and ordered them both a beer. Only when both beer and food arrived would he deign to answer any of Alexander’s questions. Alexander started deliberately vague. Diving right into the heart of the matter would only scare his acquaintance off. He would start gentle, learning what he could about the area, and only ask about Texas Red once he had earned this man’s trust. 

The man proved to be a good source of information, even if he was not a local. He had good knowledge of the surrounding towns, and he was able to direct Alexander towards which inns and taverns would have the best food, drink, and information. In return, he asked surprisingly insightful questions. He was well informed of events in the wider world, although his sources appeared somewhat out of date. But what he did know, he understood, and many of his dry remarks about politics proved to be shrewd predictions. He did not seem surprised by much. Occasionally he took offense to some opinion or other Alexander expressed, but he did not take the offense personally. They had several spirited debates over several beers. To Alexander’s astonishment, he found he did not win every last argument. The other man was a master wordsmith, rarely stating outright opinions but instead weaving an intricate web for Alexander to trap himself in.

As frustrating as his style of argument was, Alexander found himself enjoying their back-and-forth debate. He had no doubt he had found the best conversational partner in the inn. It was enough to convince him to let his guard down. He ate and drank more than he should, and the drink loosened his tongue.

“I know we just met, but I like you… sir,” Alexander said. The first part of his sentence was loud and boasting, but his confidence faded when he realized he did not even know the other man’s name. His bluster made the stranger chuckle.

“My friends call me Aaron,” he said, flashing Alexander a smile.

“Aaron, then,” Alexander repeated. The warmth in Aaron’s smile made Alexander’s stomach twist and his chest fill with a curious, light sort of feeling. Not for the first time, he could not help but notice his new friend was a handsome man. He kept himself clean shaven. His skin looked smooth and clean, with the exception of a long scar running down the left side of his face. It was an old scar, long healed over, but the crooked line was still visible even in the dim light of the tavern. It broke the symmetry of Aaron’s face, but it was not enough to render him ugly. Alexander thought it looked rather dashing.

“You never told me your name, either.”

“My name is Alexander Hamilton.”

“Well then, Alexander Hamilton,” Aaron said, and raised his glass in a toast. “To strangers.”

“To friends,” Alexander countered. The crooked smile on Aaron’s face grew. They clinked their glasses together and drank until they were empty. Once done, Alexander leaned forward a little. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask.”

“I’ve heard rumours there’s a man in this area known as Texas Red.”

The smile on Aaron’s face vanished. He stared Alexander down, his expression closed and impossible to read. “You’re a bounty hunter.”

“I prefer the term freelancer.”

“You’re an idiot,” Aaron said bluntly. “You’re going to get yourself killed. Do you know how many others have tried?”

“I’m different. I’m better.” Even as he said the words, he felt a pang of guilt. 

“Being different won’t stop you from bleeding out like the rest of them did. Go home, Alexander. We’ve buried enough men around here.”

“Then give me the information I need,” Alexander bargained. “You can’t deny I’ll have better odds the more I know.”

“There’s nothing I can tell you,” Aaron said. He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. In the dim light of the tavern, there was no way for Alexander to make out his expression, but his voice was soft and rueful when he asked, “Do you have a family?”

“None to speak of. There aren’t many women willing to settle down with someone in my profession, and I’m trying to save money for college.”

“You’re a scholar?”

The surprise in Aaron’s voice made Alexander see red. “Why is that such a surprise?”

“It’s a small world. I used to dream of the same thing.”

The rage coursing through Alexander’s body left as quickly as it had come. Aaron had not been judging him. Though they had come from worlds apart, they had more in common than Alexander had ever imagined. If nothing else, the wistful note in Aaron’s voice was painfully familiar. 

After the way Alexander had snapped, an apology would be appropriate. It was also beyond him, so he settled on a toast. 

“To our future graduation.”

A sad little smile spread across Aaron’s face, but he raised his glass in silent agreement. They drank in silence. Despite Alexander’s attempt to rescue the conversation, the mood was ruined. They sat in silence for several minutes. Once they had finished their last round of drinks, Aaron got to his feet.

“As enjoyable as this evening as been, I have a train to catch. Good luck, Alexander. I hope you’ll take my advice.”

He tipped his hat in Alexander’s direction, and left without another word. Alexander watched him leave and continued to stare at the door long after he had gone. Frustration whirled in his head. He had been confident Aaron would be able to give him the information he needed. It was not just the alcohol and enjoyment that had clouded his mind. Aaron had been able to keep up with (and even counter) Alexander’s arguments. He had a sharp mind, and Alexander had no doubts Aaron was a dangerous man in his own right. The notches on his pistol guaranteed that. But he had clammed right up at the first mention of the Texas Red. He had seemed almost frightened, and he had fled at the first opportunity. What was he afraid of, and why? There was a link Alexander was missing here, and he could not begin to guess at what it might be. Whatever it was, he had zero intentions to heed Aaron’s advice. He would ride for Burridge first thing in the morning.

When Alexander went to pay his bill, the bartender shook his head. “Your friend already paid.”

It took Alexander an embarrassingly long time to realize the man meant Aaron. It was another piece of the puzzle, but Alexander found himself no closer to solving it. He was far too exhausted to solve it that night. He had no choice but to put the matter down to a stranger’s generosity and retire to bed.


	2. Burridge

Alexander woke the next morning to find the whole town buzzing with gossip. The train west had been robbed overnight by none other than Texas Red. 

“Sounds like you should’ve stayed on the train,” the innkeeper told Alexander gruffly. As bitter as he was, Alexander did not protest. The man had a point. If Alexander had stayed on the train, his mission might be over already. Logic counseled that Alexander had had no way to know the train would be targeted, but that was cold comfort when Alexander considered what was at stake. He tried not to dwell on his anger, instead reflecting on what he knew. The train had been well guarded. Alexander had been checked for weapons when he had boarded, and required to provide an explanation for each one. There was a guard for every premium carriage, and one amongst every three regular carriages. There had been a shootout, Alexander understood, but only a brief one. The two guards who had been shot were not too badly wounded: barring infection, they would heal completely. It was a skillful robbery. The thought vexed Alexander. He hated the thought of paying his enemy any respect, but Alexander could not deny he was good at what he did.

Through his haze of anger, Alexander felt a pang of empathy for the man he had dined with last night. Aaron had been on that train, and he had seemed so terrified of the name Texas Red. Alexander could only hope he had been on one of the rear carriages. They had been largely untouched. It was the premium carriages at the front of the train that had lost every last silver trinket. It was an interesting quirk - most robbers did not care about time efficiency. Texas Red must have had a strict timeline he wanted to keep to, or else some other reason to avoid the poorer carriages at the rear. That raised the question of why, and perhaps pointed to how he had escaped. No one knew exactly what had happened after the robbery. He and one other passenger had slipped between carriages and disappeared. 

There was one bit of good news for Alexander: the robbery had rumours flying left and right. Alexander sat on a bench and scribbled down everything he heard, whether it was plausible or not. It seemed likely that Red had killed at least twenty people over his career, but forty seemed a bit rich. He certainly had a penchant for kidnapping, but Alexander suspected the claims he kept a secret harem took things far too far. To Alexander’s surprise, most people seemed confident they would see the loot from the robbery sooner or later. It was not uncommon for a shopkeeper to awake to find their entire inventory missing, replaced by a sack of precious jewellery or a stack of cash. Alexander’s first thought was to dismiss the claim, but he was forced to reconsider it as he heard it repeated ad nauseum. Enough people discussed it with enough certainty that he could not entirely ignore it. It was a peculiar detail, and one that did not fit with Alexander’s understanding of the vicious murderer. 

There was enough activity in Michel’s Creek to keep Alexander busy all morning. He interviewed friends and relations of people who had been on the train and spoke to merchants who had been shipping various goods. He spoke to the sheriff, a dull-witted drunkard whom Alexander immediately mistrusted. While the sheriff did not seem dangerous, Alexander suspected he’d cheerfully take the wallet off a corpse before reporting a murder. He had precious little information to share. 

By the time he was ready to leave town, Alexander’s frustration had reached its peak. He was eager to be on his way, but before he could leave, Alexander had one last stop to make. The graveyard was an hour’s walk from the town. The sun was shining, but the weather was not yet so warm that an hour’s walk was enough to bother Alexander. 

John Laurens’ grave was near the east end of the cemetery. The stone marking his grave was not as grand as Alexander would have liked, nor as grand as he thought he had paid for, but he found that did not anger him as much as it should. Laurens had never cared much about luxury. He had enjoyed it, but he had always been willing to put other things first. In any case, the gravestone had the most important details: his name, the dates of his birth and death, and a quote about freedom for all. It fit Laurens well. He could have had a grander burial if Alexander had arranged for the body to be returned to his family, but given his distance from his father, it was hard to believe Laurens would have gotten any peace that way. Better to rest here, in the open air and sun, with his beliefs proudly on display.

“I know I’m late,” Alexander said to the grave, kneeling before it. “But I brought every letter I wrote.”

It took everything Alexander had to pull the letters from his bag. He had been unable to stop writing Laurens, even after he had known he was dead. Even after he had stopped eight months later, he had been unable to throw the letters out. There were too many to tuck into the earth or leave stacked on the ground, so Alexander built a small fire over the grave and burned them. Alexander sat by the grave and watched the letters blacken and burn. The wind whipped the smoke away from Alexander, but he pretended it was ash flying back into his eyes that made his eyes water.

Back in town, Alexander set about finding a horse. To his delight there was a fine gelding available for sale, a strong grey horse with no signs of injury or age. It was a stroke of good luck for Alexander. The previous owner had sold him just the day before. The salesperson drove a hard bargain, but Alexander bargained harder. He left with the horse and a full set of tack for less than half the initial price. There was something to be said for small towns, Alexander thought. They had heard less of his kind of fast talk, and when they were not too suspicious, it made them easy targets. At this rate, Alexander’s mission would come in well under budget.

He had wasted nearly a whole day dallying around Michel’s Creek, but he was not willing to waste another night. He set off at three in the afternoon. With no one but the horse for company, he spoke to it, trying out various names. No ordinary names seemed to fit, although that did not surprise Alexander. He’d never been altogether certain about animals with names like Andrew and James. He tried everything he could think of, from the seasons to his favourite authors. He moved from authors to playwrights, politicians and philosophers before he hit on the right name. At the name “Seneca”, the horse snorted and flicked his ears. Curious, Alexander tried the name again. Again, the horse responded, clearly familiar with the name. He laughed.

“Your old owner considered himself an academic, then. I doubt there’s many people out here who know about Roman philosophers.”

Seneca did not reply. That did not stop Alexander from talking to him for the entire long ride. He did not stop until nightfall. 

The nights were still chill, but Alexander’s gear was the best money could buy. Between his gear and the small campfire through the night, he stayed warm and cosy through the night. Despite this, he did not sleep well. He woke half a dozen times through the night, tracking how long had passed each time by the passage of the moon overhead. Strange dreams haunted him. The sounds of the open plain were unfamiliar to Alexander, and he missed the familiar rattle of streetcars and chatter of pedestrians passing by his window. Most of all, he missed the comfort of his feather bed.

It occured to Alexander that he had gone soft. It was not all that long ago he would have had no problems sleeping on the open road. But now he had tasted the finer things in life, what had once been familiar was no longer enough. Worse, there was no bright point on the horizon. He would spend at least one more night on the road before reaching Burridge, and once there he did not have high hopes. It was a tiny town, built up around one wealthy land-owning family. It was big enough to support a church, a shop, and an inn, as well as a doctor and a sheriff’s office. The final item was the most sizable. For reasons Alexander could not understand, the law enforcement of Burridge made up almost half the population. It had more than doubled in size over the past five years. Alexander did not think it was a coincidence that the growth had started when Texas Red had first appeared, but the exact relation between the two eluded him. 

When the sun rose the next morning, Alexander rose with it. He did not feel refreshed. He was tired and cranky and altogether more exhausted than he had been the previous night. As tempting as it was to linger and steal another hour of sleep, Alexander put such fantasies out of his mind. Within fifteen minutes of waking up, he was on the road again. 

Alexander did indeed have to spend a second, third, and even (to his dismay) a fourth night on the road before reaching Burridge late Monday morning. The sleepy little town was even smaller than Michel’s Creek, but the people seemed in good cheer. He did not make it more than a few steps into town before people started to greet him. None of the greetings were suspicious. They welcomed him like a long lost friend, asking his name and business and sharing local gossip. Most looked amused when Alexander told him why he was in town.

“I wouldn’t know anything about him,” they said. “You’ll be wanting to talk to Sheriff Prevost about that.”

Halfway across town, he spotted a young woman reading a thin pamphlet. That alone would not have caught Alexander’s attention, but the front cover did. The silhouette of the Texas Red was a distinctive one. Even if Alexander had not recognized it on sight, the title would have given it away. The woman’s hand covered half the title, but he could spy the word “Red”, and “Adventures” on the line above it. 

“Excuse me, miss,” Alexander said. “May I ask what that is you’re reading?”

The woman started at his approach. Her face flushed, and she clutched the book to her chest as if she had been caught in the middle of something embarrassing. “It’s nothing, sir.”

“It’s about Texas Red?”

Alexander watched as the woman’s cheeks turned from pink to bright red. She nodded. As peculiar as her behaviour was, Alexander reached for his wallet.

“How much do you want for it?”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be of interest to you, sir,” she protested.

“On the contrary. I’m trying to track him down. Any information on him is invaluable.”

“You really don’t want this book,” the woman insisted. There was a pleading note in her voice, and she looked this way and that as if looking for a way to escape.

“I won’t force you, but there’s a whole dollar in it for you,” Alexander said. He wore his most charming smile and prayed it came across as suave and not sleazy. Her eyes fixed on his wallet at the offer. His smile widened. A whole dollar was nothing to sneeze at, especially not for a book that size. She looked back at him.

“You can’t tell anyone where you got it.”

“Agreed,” Alexander said instantly. They exchanged goods. The woman snatched the dollar before pressing the book face-down into Alexander’s palms. He tucked it into his pack and continued walking. Even if the book was as sensationalist as he suspected, there was no harm in having some light reading material while he traveled. It was a slim book, and fit neatly in his coat pocket. 

Pleased with his purchase, Alexander changed direction and made his way to the sheriff’s office. It was a modern building, much newer and larger than most of the other buildings in town. Someone had a vested interest in keeping the police well equipped. 

To Alexander’s surprise, he was waved right on through to the sheriff’s personal office. The sheriff himself was a tall man, slender and stern with a cruel glint in his eyes. He smiled at Alexander. Something about the expression made Alexander’s skin crawl. He forced himself to smile in response, and shook the sheriff’s hand vigorously.

“I’m Alexander Hamilton. I’m a community security consultant.”

The man nodded. “Sheriff Prevost. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Washington wrote ahead of you. I understand you’re supposed to be the best in the business.”

Alexander’s chest puffed out in pride. It was alarming that Washington had written ahead, especially given he had disapproved of Alexander’s mission from the start, but that was not enough to detract from the compliment. He knew it was true, but that did not mean he heard it often enough for his liking. Washington did not give praise often. His smile shifted into something more genuine.

“That’s what they say. I’m here for -”

“Texas Red, I know,” Prevost cut him off. “You and every other bounty hunter this side of the mountains.”

He looked Alexander up and down as if assessing him. He did not look impressed by what he saw. “You’ll want to speak with the mayor. Mr Edwards is adamant the bastard should be brought in alive.”

“Alive?” Alexander echoed. He did not bother to hide his surprise. Although it was not unusual for bounties to require the target alive, such conditions were never applied to dangerous subjects. After everything the Red had done, Alexander could not imagine why anyone wanted him alive. Alexander personally wanted to see him dead at any cost. “Why?”

The sheriff chuckled at his surprise. “Your guess is as good as mine. You ask me, I want to see the bastard hang. It was bad enough when he was terrorising the town. I didn’t account on him making it personal and going after my own damn family.”

So that was where Alexander had heard the name. Everyone knew the story of how Texas Red had kidnapped the sheriff’s wife, and although no one knew how it ended, it could not have ended well. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

The sheriff stared at him, his expression closed off. “Theodosia’s not dead. It would be better if she was.”

Alexander winced. He could scarcely imagine what the outlaw might be doing to the sheriff’s wife, and he found he did not want to further consider the details. There were some things that did not bear thinking about. And for the sheriff to wish his own wife was dead - that could only mean the alternative was worse than death. A shudder went down his spine.

“I know it’s a cold comfort, but I’ll see him brought to justice, sir.”

Prevost did not look impressed. “I’ve heard that before. Go on, then. Get to work. I have better things to do than answer your questions.”

Alexander nodded. The meeting had not been as fruitful as he had promised, but at least he had the lead. He sent a street urchin up to the mayor’s office to ask for a meeting. In the meantime, he set himself up at the local tavern and reviewed his notes. Shortly after noon the urchin came back with an invitation. Alexander was to visit the Manor House for dinner that very evening. The mayor had heard rumors a famous bounty hunter was in town, and he wished to meet him and assess his talents for himself. It was everything Alexander could have hoped for. He sent the child back with his RSVP. 

There were several long hours before dinner, so Alexander used that time to explore the town. By the time came for Alexander to bathe and change for the meal, he had explored every last nook and cranny of the place. If there were any secrets to be found in the town, Alexander would not be the one to find them. 

The Manor House was a grand old building. It had been built at the foot of a range of mountains which ran east to west for many miles. The town had popped up around the manor, but the manor still maintained a large block of land surrounding it. It sat a little higher than the rest of the town, its stately windows staring down at the town and the plains beyond. The mountains loomed behind it. It was an impressive sight, and one Alexander found rather disconcerting. The manor had once held a large extended family, but for several years now it had only been the mayor and his niece. 

A servant let Alexander into the house, walking him through to the drawing room. The mayor was much as Alexander had expected: an older man with greying hair, and an old-fashioned suit. He greeted Alexander politely, and they spent several minutes conversing on trade and topics before moving on to the topic of Alexander’s business. As always, Alexander was blunt with his line of questioning.

“I understand you want him brought in alive. Why?”

“Information,” Mr Edwards said. “The villain murdered my poor nephew during a night-time robbery several years ago. I want to know what he did with the body.”

Alexander bowed his head. “I’m sorry for your loss. It sounds like your nephew was a brave man to stand up to him.”

“He was an idiot,” Edwards said with a shake of his head. The words were so curt and blunt they caught Alexander off guard. He was used to people saying cruel things out of grief, but after this much time had passed, he was surprised to find Edwards still so bitter.

“It’s hardly surprising. Aaron always was a stupid child. Nothing like his mother - my sister, you know. But for some reason the banks refuse to acknowledge his passing without a proper burial. Until then, I’m obliged to support my nice out of my own pocket. Not that I begrudge a penny, of course, but the boy was to pay me back for his care once he turned eighteen.”

Any concerns Alexander had about Edwards motivation vanished. The man may be a money-grabbing creep, and there was undoubtedly off in something about his story, but he had no ulterior motives. While not exactly pure, his motivation was out in the open. He was after the Burr family fortune. If Alexander was a better man, the thought might have worried him. Instead, he felt only relief. At least now he understood the situation.

“I can’t bring your nephew back, sir, but I’ll do everything I can to bring Texas Red in.”

“And I will be very grateful when you do.”

The spoke on the topic for a few more minutes before a woman interrupted them. She was a short, slender woman, only a couple of years older than Alexander himself. Her face was oval and very lovely to look at, but there was a peculiar grief in her eyes Alexander could not understand.

“Ah, Sally, there you are. This is Alexander Hamilton, a specialist in community safety. If all goes well, it will be safe for you to go into town by summer. Mr Hamilton, this is my niece, Sally Burr.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Sally said, smiling brightly at Alexander. “I take it you’re after Texas Red?”

“I am,” Alexander said. “I’ll bring him to justice, Miss Burr, you have my word.”

“How wonderful,” Sally said with a quick laugh. “But let’s not talk business. I’ve heard you’re from the city? You must tell me everything!”

Alexander did so, bringing out the usual stories that excited people in rural areas. As he did so, he tried to build an understanding of Sally Burr in his mind. It was peculiar that she had not yet married, and Alexander found it strange that she had been so disinterested in his work. Even conversing with her, there was something about her that seemed off. She made every appearance of delighting in his stories, but Alexander could not shake the notion that he was boring her. The topic certainly bored her uncle. He excused himself after ten minutes, promising to bring Alexander some papers he thought would assist his work.

As soon as the door shut behind Mayor Edwards, Alexander’s suspicions were confirmed. Sally leaned forward and grasped his arm. The smile was abruptly gone from her face, replaced by wide, pleading eyes.

“Mr Hamilton, sir, I have a favour to ask.”

“Whatever it is, Miss Burr, I would be honoured to be of assistance,” Alexander said gravely. He smiled gently at her, hoping to put her fears at ease. He might have reached up to cover her hand with his own, but something held him back. If this request was as serious as it seemed to be, now was not the time for Alexander to flirt.

“You mustn’t hurt him.”

Before Alexander could ask who, she continued,

“I know he’s broken the law, but he’s a good man. He never wanted any of this. Please, don’t hurt him, don’t let my uncle get his hands on him, don’t try and track him down. Just go back to New York. Leave us be.”

Alexander’s eyebrows shot up. “He’s killed people. He killed my best friend.”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Sally was shaking her head. “I don’t believe that. I refuse to believe that. He’s a sweetheart, really, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Bullshit,” Alexander said, momentarily forgetting it was rude to swear in front of a woman. Sally leaned in a little closer, her tone growing more desperate by the second.

“Please. Even if you don’t believe me, please don’t hurt him. I’ll do anything you want.”

Her voice cracked as she spoke, and Alexander was horrified to see tears in her eyes. Alexander drew the only conclusion he could. “You’re in love with him.”

She denied it, but Alexander’s mind was made up. It fit too neatly. A woman with Sally’s looks and fortune should have been married years ago. If she was single, it was because she wanted to be, or because she wanted someone unobtainable. It explained why she wanted Texas Red safe, and why he seemed to haunt the sleepy little town of Burridge. How she had fallen for the monster Alexander did not know, but he found he didn’t care. Despite her protests and pleas, he refused to agree to her terms.

To Alexander’s relief, Sally was obliged to drop the topic when her uncle returned. She spoke no more to Alexander throughout the rest of the night. The bright smile she had greeted him with vanished entirely, and she did not bother feign disappointment when he declined to stay after dinner for more wine and conversation. Alexander declined all offers of accompaniment down to the town and stepped out into the cool evening air alone. The walk back would give him a chance to put his thoughts in order.

All in all, the visit had been a successful one. Mayor Edwards had provided him with all the information he had on the matter, and Alexander had a large stack of papers to read when he got back to the inn. That much was more than he had hoped for. With Edwards’ information, Alexander was confident he could find Texas Red’s weakness. Whatever fanciful stories people cooked up about him, he was just a man. Every man had a weakness, and Alexander would find Red’s weakness and exploit it. 

But if he had taken one step forward with Edwards, he had taken two steps back with Sally. Texas Red was a vicious criminal. He had killed Sally’s own brother, and she still wanted him safe and whole. Either Sally was an idiot, or the Red was a master of manipulation. Alexander suspected the latter. There was too much intelligence behind those brown eyes for Alexander to dismiss her as a fool. Alexander could not begin to imagine what lies Red must have told to win her loyalty, but they must have been both lovely and convincing. 

Despite Alexander’s best intentions to work, his days on the road had taken their toll. Although the bed at the inn was old and lumpy, he fell asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.


	3. Noon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and commented! Feedback is what keeps me writing and posting.

Alexander was used to hearing various noises throughout the night. He could sleep through rattling trains and pouring rain and once, memorably, a riot in the streets. But when an unfamiliar voice addressed him in the dead of night, he started awake immediately. 

A figure stood at the foot of the bed. Even cloaked in shadow, Alexander could make out the silhouette of his hat and the bandana covering his face. Fear spiked through Alexander’s veins. He scrambled for the pistol he kept by his bedside, but he could not find it. The fear turned into a roaring terror, filling his chest and stealing his breath. He heard a soft laugh from the end of the bed.

“Looking for this?”

Alexander’s head shot up. Sure enough, the stranger held Alexander’s own pistol. He was not, to Alexander’s surprise, pointing it at Alexander, but rather dangling it in front of him mockingly.

“Give that back.”

“When I’m done with it,” the stranger said, and set the weapon on the window sill. Alexander watched his movements, cataloguing each and every twitch. The bandana kept him from seeing his visitor’s face, but he could still try to decipher his motives. His movements were steady and certain, so he was not drunk. That itself was a surprise: most criminals who tried to assault Alexander were too drunk to know better. That did not seem to be the case here. This man was cautious. The word should not be an accurate description, and yet Alexander suspected it was - which raised one big question.

“Why are you here?”

“To warn you.” The stranger leaned back against the wall. A sliver of moonlight passed over his face, giving Alexander a glimpse of dark eyes. “Go home, Alexander. You don’t belong here, and things will end badly if you stay. We can end this without bloodshed.”

“Convincing,” Alexander said. His mouth worked quickly, even faster than his brain. If he could keep his enemy distracted, he might have a chance to get the upper hand. “No, really, that was good. You almost sounded like you actually meant it. You’ve nailed the reluctant killer act to a T. Did you practice in front of a mirror? And more importantly, how did you know my name?”

“You’re here for me. That makes your name my business.”

“So you admit you’re Texas Red.”

The man inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement.

“You know, most criminals I’m after don’t let themselves into my room. I suppose it’s too much to hope that you’re here to turn yourself in?”

“I’m afraid so. Is it too much for me to hope you’ll turn and leave?”

“I’m afraid so,” Alexander said. He stared the man down in the darkness. No matter how he tried, he could not shake the feeling that the bandit had not lied to him: he did not want Alexander dead. That only confused him further. If the other man knew who he was and why he was there, Alexander could not think of a single reason he was still breathing. If their places were reversed, Alexander would not have hesitated to defend himself.

It was the bandit who broke eye contact first, turning his head to look out the window. “You won’t see me again.”

“Coward. Why won’t you face me like a man? We can meet at noon tomorrow.”

To Alexander’s astonishment, the bandit laughed. It was a soft laugh, pleasant to listen to and almost musical. The thought unsettled Alexander. A man who had done as much evil as him should not have sounded so appealing.

“I’m not an idiot, Alexander. You’re not going to goad me into a duel.”

Alexander blurted the first thing that came into his mind. “Then I’ll involve Sally Burr.”

The man had turned to leave, but he froze at Alexander’s words. His head turned back towards Alexander. When he spoke, his voice was low and menacing. “What did you say?”

Retrospectively, Alexander’s gamble had not been a wise move. Antagonizing a known murderer was reckless at best, and normally when Alexander did so he was at least armed. Doing so in his nightclothes while his opponent held Alexander’s own gun was quite possibly the stupidest thing Alexander had ever done. But, having done it, he knew better than to back down.

“Miss Burr. We duel at noon tomorrow, or I involve her.”

“And if we both miss, you’ll leave her be?”

“You have my word,” Alexander said without hesitation. It was not a difficult promise to make. Alexander was an excellent marksman, whether it was with a pistol or rifle or any other ranged weapon. There was, in Alexander’s estimation, zero chance he would not hit his target.

There was a long pause. A moment later, the man tossed Alexander’s gun across the room. The sound of metal against wood clattered and rang throughout the small, darkened room. Alexander considered lunging for it, but before he could, the bandit spoke.

“Noon, then.”

He left without another word, climbing out the window and pulling himself up onto the roof of the inn. Alexander dashed across the room and grabbed his gun, but it was too late. His target had already escaped. He sat down on the bed and took a deep breath. The danger may have passed, but it was only now he became aware of the frantic hammering of his heart. 

The more Alexander considered his actions, the more amazed he was that he was still alive. Texas Red - easily the most dangerous man in the state - had broken into Alexander’s quarters with hostile intentions. He had known Alexander was there to capture or kill him. He had been armed and had claimed Alexander’s own weapons for himself. It was astonishing that he had not slaughtered Alexander in his sleep. The fact that he had not only woken Alexander but stayed calm and nonviolent throughout Alexander’s taunting was nothing short of a miracle. 

If he had any regret, it was a twinge of guilt with regards to Miss Burr. It seemed dishonest to use her plea for leniency to manipulate the bandit, but Alexander had little choice. The man was a criminal. He would be brought to justice. Even so, there was something about the situation Alexander did not understand. Whatever closeness existed between Red and Miss Burr seemed to be genuine, or else he would not have responded so beautifully to Alexander’s threats. If he was merely taking advantage, he would not have cared what Alexander threatened her with. But that brought Alexander back to the unavoidable conclusion that he should have been slaughtered in his sleep, or at least cut down when he threatened Miss Burr. Nothing about this criminal made any sense. The thought haunted him, and Alexander could not help but think he was missing something.

The next morning, Alexander sent letters to both the sheriff and the mayor. He outlined the events of the night as briefly as he could. In the letter to Mayor Edwards, he confessed to his gambit involving Sally Burr, and recommended she be kept ignorant of the duel until Texas Red was safely in custody. The sheriff thanked him for his letter and promised to handle things. If Alexander lost, they would use the opportunity to bring Texas Red to justice. 

The rest of the morning Alexander spent ensuring he had his affairs in order. He finally found the words to apologize to Washington for his insults, and to affirm his feelings of friendship and trust in the older man. He wrote a letter to Miss Burr, expressing his regret that he could not listen to her wishes while being careful not to mention what those wishes were. Lastly, he wrote a letter to be read in the event of his death. If he died in the duel, he asked that his body be returned to Michel’s Creek to be buried beside his friend. If he had to spend eternity so far from civilization, then he at least would not spend it alone. 

At 11:59 AM, Alexander stepped out onto the dusty street. A light wind blew from the east, and the spring sun seemed to burn with all the ferocity of a summer’s day. The townspeople had made themselves scarce. Not a single door or window was open, and not a single person had even come to watch. The only person on the street was Texas Red himself. He stood outside the sheriff’s office, leaning against the door casually. His jacket was a darker red than Alexander had expected, but the sash covering his face was as bright as blood. The upper half of his face was shadowed by his wide-brimmed hat, and he wore his pistol on his hip. There was nothing elaborate in the weapon design. It was a top-of-the-range gun, but it was not a custom piece like Alexander’s own weapon. If not for the dozens of marks cut into it, it might have looked like a perfectly ordinary weapon. The marks sent a chill down Alexander's spine. He may be a good shot, but evidence suggested his enemy was just as deadly. 

His opponent looked up when Alexander stepped out. “Good morning, Alexander. Have you reflected any more on my offer?”

“I don’t have time for small talk,” Alexander snapped. Texas Red nodded and straightened. The two of them met in the street and stared each other down, silently daring the other to blink. Up close, Alexander found himself surprised by how short the outlaw was. Alexander’s own height was nothing impressive, but he still had an inch or two on Red. 

“Ten paces, I presume?”

“The usual,” Alexander agreed. The two of them shook hands. Alexander turned and drew his pistol. He had it cocked and ready to fire before he took his first step. On his second step, he heard his opponent do the same.

On his seventh step, he caught a glimpse of movement in a nearby window. The sight unsettled him. It was not unusual for people to watch this kind of thing from their houses, but there was something about the situation that struck Alexander as wrong. The thought would not leave him alone as he advanced. 

On the tenth step, Alexander turned and shot. Texas Red short first, gaining the advantage by a fraction of a second. His bullet caught Alexander square in the chest. As it hit, the sound of guns firing blared from every direction, and off to one side he heard glass shatter. Texas Red dove behind a nearby wagon to safety, quick and spry and unbelievably unharmed. Alexander had missed. A hysterical laugh bubbled up in his throat. The one shot in his life that had truly mattered, the one that would have let him avenge both Laurens and his own life, and Alexander had missed. 

A second bullet slammed into Alexander’s left arm. He stumbled forward a few steps, letting out a gasp of pain. He looked up to glare at Red, for all the good it would do him - but Texas Red was not to blame. He was pinned down near the sheriff’s office, too busy fighting for his life to pay Alexander any heed. Instead, Alexander turned to his left. One of the sheriff’s men had his gun levelled at Alexander’s head. He was a young man, barely more than a boy, and his hands shook badly.

“I’m on your side!” Alexander protested.

“I’m sorry,” the boy said, and he seemed to mean it. “I’m just following orders.”

In that moment, two things happened at once. The man shot, and Alexander ran. He was too badly wounded to make it far, and his movement attracted more gunfire, but his immediate purpose was served. The boy missed, and Alexander bought himself a few more minutes of life. 

He ran until he found himself with something solid between him and the men shooting at him, at which point he stopped to take stock of his options. He panted heavily. His shirt and coat had bled through. The pain radiating through his chest and arm was worse than anything he had ever felt, and he could swear the fingers in his left hand were tingling. Alexander tried not to panic. He was right-hand dominant, and he still had his gun. He was in cover, and he could shoot. He might make it out of this. He looked around for inspiration, and it was only when he saw a flash of red beside him he realized his mistake. Hope died in Alexander’s chest. In his rush to get out of immediate danger, he had thrown himself behind the same bit of cover as Texas Red.

To Alexander’s surprise, the outlaw did not seem at all concerned with Alexander’s presence. He was focused entirely on the sheriff and his officers. When he did deign to acknowledge Alexander’s presence, he did not attack. Instead, he pulled out a small pouch of the sort used to carry morphine and passed it to Alexander. 

“Take half. Only half, unless you want to fall into a coma.”

Alexander scowled. “I’m not taking anything from you.”

“Fine,” Red shrugged. He popped up out of cover to fire off a few shots before ducking back down. From what Alexander could hear, none of the shots hit. “Listen, I don’t know what you did to antagonize them, but the only way you’re getting out of town alive is with me.”

As much as Alexander wanted to argue, he had a point. If the law in this town was corrupt, then Alexander’s best bet (at least in the short term) was with the criminal. “What do you want?”

“I need a distraction.”

“What? So you can escape and leave me out to dry?” Alexander scoffed. Red shook his head. There was a pause in the conversation as he stood to fire a few more shots. Again, his shots missed. When he was back behind cover, he made eye contact with Alexander.

“You have my word that I’ll come back for you.”

“You’re a criminal. Why should I trust you?”

“You don’t have a choice,” he said curtly. “If you need evidence, isn’t it enough that I showed up today?”

He had shown up, despite making it very plain he had not wanted to. Alexander suspected that had more to do with his blackmail than any sense of honor the outlaw might have, but it was all he had to go on. His choices were limited.

“Fine. What did you have in mind?”

Red outlined his plan quickly. Alexander would have to not only hold position, but hold the attention of the sheriff and his men. While he fired on his opponents, Texas Red would sneak off to get ‘help’ - but what that help was, he refused to elaborate on. He insisted the end result was what mattered. His plan, he claimed, would have Alexander on a horse and safely out of town within an hour. Red himself would see Alexander made it to a doctor. Then, once Alexander was in safe hands, he would vanish. It was not the outcome Alexander had wanted for the day, but it was the best he was likely to get. Begrudgingly, he agreed. 

The world span before Alexander’s eyes when he stood. The tingling in his fingers had spread to his head and seemed to press in around his skull as the word faded to white in front of him. His vision cleared a moment later, but he could not shake the peculiar dizziness. His hand shook as he raised his gun. He chose three targets and hit two, blaming the shaking for missing the third. As he did so, Red slipped away and vanished between two buildings. No one but Alexander saw him go. Once he was gone, Alexander dropped back behind cover and reloaded his pistol. He waited as long as he dared before popping up again, firing on the men who had risked an advance. 

Over ten minutes passed. Alexander heard a thundering noise building behind him before one of the sheriff’s men gave a shout and pointed behind Alexander. The men rushed clear of the street and into the nearby buildings. Alexander turned and gaped. Over two dozen horses were racing through the town, trampling anything in their path. In the middle of the stampede rode Texas Red, looking as at ease as if he were on a leisurely pleasure ride. He somehow managed to steer his horse through the herd until he overtook the horses in the lead. He rode straight for Alexander. 

“This was your plan?” Alexander asked incredulously.

“Complain less,” Red countered. He dismounted and helped Alexander into the saddle, instructing him to scoot back as far as he could. Once Alexander was secured, he climbed up in front of him and took the reigns. Alexander had no choice but to hold on for dear life as Red steered them back into the stampede of horses. The herd took them far out of town and onto the open plain. Once they were far out of sight of the town, Red whistled and changed direction. The herd split in two: half following them, and half racing off in their own direction. 

The next three hours passed in a haze. Alexander’s world reduced to a few hyper-realistic points. First and foremost was the pain, not only in his arm and chest (although those were horrible beyond description), but the throbbing pain in his head. His mouth was dry and parched. To top it all off, watching the world pass them by was enough to make Alexander nauseous. He tried shutting his eyes, but that only made the feeling worse, so he opened them and stared without seeing.

When Red brought them to a halt, he insisted on helping Alexander off his horse. Alexander found himself glad of the insistence, as it allowed him to protest the help and preserve his pride. He was not altogether certain he could have dismounted on his own. He all but collapsed to a seat on the ground. 

“Let me see your wounds,” Red said, kneeling beside Alexander. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he peeled away the torn and filthy cloth of Alexander’s shirt. He swore at what he saw and stood back up. From the bags tucked around his horse’s saddle he pulled out a flask and some gauze. The flask he gave to Alexander to drink. The water was warm, but it soothed his throat and washed the taste of blood from his mouth. The cloth he used to bind the wound on Alexander’s chest. It was clear he had some experience with bandaging wounds, but he was no doctor. 

Bandaging Alexander’s chest took all the gauze he had. When he was done, he sat and stared at Alexander’s arm. Blood dripped freely down Alexander’s skin and landed in the dust below. After what seemed like a terribly long time to Alexander, the bandit sighed. Without a word, he pulled the bandana off his face and used it to bandage Alexander’s wound. It was not until he looked up that Alexander saw his face, and recognized it.

“Aaron.”

Despite his best efforts, Alexander could not keep the despair he felt from his tone. He may have only known the man in the tavern for a few hours, but he had liked him. Aaron bowed his head, guilt written in every line of his face.

“I told you to go home.”

“You must think I’m an idiot,” Alexander said bitterly. To think, he’d actually asked Aaron if he had any information on Texas Red! No wonder the man hadn’t answered. Alexander had put it down to fear of the bandit, but in retrospect, Aaron had never said he was afraid. A few moments later, he made another connection. “That train you had to catch. You robbed it!”

“Yes,” Aaron said, and pressed his lips together. The word hung awkwardly in the air. He made no attempts to justify himself, as Alexander had expected him to. He did not apologize, or boast, or try to deny it. He took responsibility for his actions calmly, denying Alexander the chance to take offense to his response. “Are you able to ride? The nearest doctor is nearly a week away, and I don’t like the look of your arm.”

“Why do you care? You shot me!”

“I wasn’t the one who demanded a duel,” Aaron snapped. Despite his sharp tone, he was gentle as he helped Alexander to his feet and back into the saddle. “You blackmailed me into showing up.”

“Don’t blame me,” Alexander snorted. “It’s not my fault you went and seduced the mayor’s niece.”

Aaron stared up at him in bewilderment. “Sally is my _sister_.”

Alexander blinked a couple of times before he started to laugh. His side ached in protest at the movement, but he could not help himself. He must have looked ludicrous to Aaron, but Aaron did not stay to watch his hysterics. He walked over to one of the unsaddled horses and grasped its main. If he had been anyone else, Alexander would have been impressed by the ease with which Aaron climbed up to ride bareback, but he was not at all in the mood to be impressed by him.

“Aaron. Aaron fucking Burr. Jesus Christ. Your uncle thinks you’re dead, you know,” Alexander said, once he had caught his breath. 

“My uncle wishes I was dead,” Aaron countered. “Luckily for me, he’s too cowardly to do anything about it.”

The two of them lapsed into silence as they rode across the plains. Judging from the position of the sun, Alexander guessed they were heading west. Every patch of grass or cluster of trees looked much the same to Alexander, but Aaron seemed to know them well enough to guide his way. The horse he had set Alexander on seemed content to follow alone behind him, so Alexander was left alone with his thoughts as the sun set. 

They rode until it was so dark Alexander could barely see Aaron’s figure ahead of him. They made camp by a dry creek bed. Alexander intended to stay awake long enough to eat something and interrogate Aaron some more, but he made the mistake of closing eyes when he sat down, and the next thing he knew he was asleep. 

He woke the next morning to the smell of sizzling bacon. For a few moments, Alexander lay still in the dirt, cataloguing all the reasons he did not want to sit up. Every part of him ached. His chest radiated pain, his arm burned and itched, his head pounded, and every remaining inch was stiff from sleeping on the cold hard ground. The last thing he wanted to do was face the day, but Alexander somehow managed to force himself to sit up. He found Aaron already awake and tending a small fire. He smiled when Alexander sat up and offered him some water. When Alexander took his first sip, he closed his eyes in bliss when he found the liquid cool.

“Where did you get this?”

“The creek picks up about half a mile north. I boiled enough for a week, if we’re careful. That should be enough to last us.”

“Us?”

“I told you, I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“I can get to Michel’s Creek myself.”

“Even if you could, Doctor Payne is the worst doctor I’ve ever met. Half the patients he operates on die. The best case scenario will see you walk out with one arm and a morphine addiction. If you can hold out, there’s another town to the west where you’ll get proper care.”

“How do I know this isn’t part of a plan to kill me?” Alexander demanded. Rather than taking offence, Aaron passed him a plate full of food. The greasy bacon and hard bread was not an appetizing meal, but Alexander was all too aware he had not eaten since breakfast the day before. As he ate, Aaron pointed out,

“If I wanted you dead, all I’d have to do is walk away.”

Under better circumstances, the words would have roused Alexander’s temper - but he was tired, and hungry, and painfully aware that Aaron was right. Even if he knew where he was, he was in no shape to get himself to safety. The thought disgusted him. Bile rose in the back of his throat, and despite his hunger Alexander found he could not eat. He put his plate to the side.

“Just fucking kill me and get it over with.”

“I’m not going to kill you, Alexander,” Aaron sighed. He sounded exhausted, although sun had not been up even an hour. “I know you hate me, but I wish you could trust my word. I’m not a murderer.”

Alexander’s temper snapped. “You killed my best friend.”

Aaron paused with his food halfway up to his mouth. After a moment, he set the food back down on the plate. The easy smile on his face had vanished, but Alexander could not begin to read the new expression he wore. His piercing eyes were the only thing that gave anything away, staring at Alexander as if trying to see into his soul. At length, he spoke.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”

“John Laurens,” Alexander snarled. He watched Aaron’s face for any sign of recognition, but his expression remained as empty as before. Rage boiled in Alexander’s blood. If only he had his gun, or even just a good sized rock, he would take Aaron on, mortal wounds or no. But all Alexander had were his words.

“You murdered him. You butchered him and put his body up as a display and you don’t even fucking remember. You’re disgusting. You - “

“I remember,” Aaron said. He interrupted Alexander before his tirade could even begin, leaving Alexander with nothing to do but glare at him. Aaron looked away, then down at his hands, before finally making eye contact with Alexander. “The situation with Laurens was unfortunate, but I don’t regret my actions.”

Alexander lunged at him. The movement was slow and clumsy. Aaron avoided it by leaning slightly to one side, watching as Alexander landed hard in the dirt. He looked down at him with a small frown.

“You’ll open your wounds. Is that what Laurens would want?”

“He can’t want anything. He’s dead,” Alexander said. He spat at Aaron, leaving a wet patch on the elbow of his jacket. Aaron crinkled his nose in distaste. Alexander pushed himself up on shaking arms, intending to use Aaron’s momentary distraction as a chance to attack, but his arms collapsed under him. The movement caught Aaron’s attention immediately. He set his meal aside and moved to a low crouch before pulling Alexander up into a sitting position. For a moment, the two of them sat there in silence. When Aaron spoke again, his tone was gentle.

“Listen. The way you’re acting, the only person you’re going to kill is yourself. If you want me dead, you’re going to have to be patient. I promised I’d see you to a doctor, and if you let me I will; but in the meantime, I need you to cooperate.”

As much as Alexander wanted to deny it, Aaron had a point. The pain threading his body was bad enough that Alexander could scarcely focus on his words, let alone formulate a response, but he nodded grimly. Relief flooded over Aaron’s face. 

“Good. Let me check your arm. I think you knocked the bandage loose.”

Begrudgingly, Alexander nodded again. Aaron pulled the bandage free, wincing at the sight of the wound.

“There’s dirt everywhere. I’m going to clean it, but it’s going to hurt.”

Hurt did not begin to describe it. The water trickling over the open wound was agony enough, but that was nothing compared to the feel of Aaron’s fingers wiping the dirt away. The touch was gentle, but that was not enough to stop him from hurting. Black started to creep up the sides of Alexander’s vision until the darkness was all he knew. His world narrowed to darkness and pain, and then nothing. 

When Alexander came to, the sun was high in the sky. His arm still ached, but the bandage had been re-tied to what he suspected was the best of Aaron’s ability. Aaron himself sat on the ground beside him with a book in hand, apparently entirely absorbed in his reading. 

“Hey. Texas Red. Shouldn’t we be moving?”

To his amusement, Aaron jumped at the greeting. He seemed to agree with Alexander’s premise, as he tucked his book away into his pack and got to his feet. As he helped Alexander to stand and mount his horse, he said,

“Don’t call me that. It’s a stupid nickname made by and for stupid people. I would have thought you were above that.”

Any glee Alexander had felt at Aaron’s response vanished at the final sentence. The name seemed to annoy Aaron, and that had been enough to motivate Alexander to use it at every opportunity. He had fully intended on never using the name Aaron again. But Aaron, with his sharp eyes and quick mind, had cut right to the middle of Alexander’s insecurities and used them against him. As childish as it was, Alexander found himself pouting. He needed some way to refer to Aaron - but ‘Aaron’ was the name his friends called him, and Alexander would take being called an idiot over calling Aaron Burr his friend. Fortunately, one option still remained to him.

“Fine. Burr.”

“Better,” Aaron said. He checked over Alexander’s form, tightening a few straps and tucking things into the horse’s pack. When he was done, he walked over to the horse he had ridden yesterday and mounted smoothly. Even without reigns, he managed to steer the horse where he wanted. He whistled, and the horse under Alexander started to follow him despite Alexander’s inaction. They set off across the plains, with Alexander having nothing to do by stew over his pain and rage.


	4. Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one, because there were some things I didn't want to leave hanging entirely until the next update.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented or left kudos! It's always nice to receive validation for the time I sink into writing.

Alexander’s condition worsened over the next three days. He spent less and less time alert and awake, and more time dozing and staring vacantly, unable to process anything beyond the chorus of complaints from his body. They spent all day in the saddle. In the morning, Alexander would wake to find Aaron ready to ride. They would pause around noon for a light lunch before carrying on until nightfall. By the time they came to a halt, Alexander would be too exhausted to help set up the camp. He would stay awake long enough to force down some food before collapsing into the dust and sleeping through the night. His dreams were feverish and full of nightmares, but they did not wake him. 

The more time passed, the harder it became to deny there was something wrong with Alexander’s arm. The wound felt hot to touch. When Alexander was still, he could swear he could feel it throbbing with each beat of his heart. His fingers tingled incessantly, but the wound itself was painful and itchy. Worst of all was the smell. Flies buzzed around the wound, and Alexander began to wonder how much time he had left.

Neither Aaron nor Alexander mentioned the arm, nor anything else about Alexander’s condition, until lunch on the third day. Aaron used the opportunity to check the bandages and frowned at what he saw. Alexander did not look. He did not need his eyes to tell him what the rest of his body already knew. 

“We need to move faster.”

Alexander snorted. “We can’t. We’re already riding all damn day.”

Aaron was silent, but they did not stop that night until long after the sun had set. When Alexander woke the next morning, he did not remember what time they had stopped. The more he thought, the more gaps he found in his memory. He panicked and tried to call out for help, but he could not manage more than a low moan. The noise was not enough to wake Aaron. By the time he stirred, Alexander had already drifted back into a feverish sleep.

The conversation with Aaron on the third day soon became the last clear point in Alexander’s memory. Everything after blurred together into a haze of fever and pain. It seemed to Alexander as if his entire life had been lived in this one saddle, and he would be trapped on the interminable ride for all eternity. This was not what he had expected of Hell, but he could not deny it was effective. He lost even the energy to antagonize Aaron. There were times when he tried to talk to Alexander, but his words seemed to come both too quickly and too slow all at once. All Alexander could do was stare in blank incomprehension. When Aaron took it upon himself to dose Alexander with morphine, Alexander found himself silently grateful. It was not enough to stop the pain, but even a small respite was welcome.

When the hallucinations set in, Alexander was not surprised. Part of it was a lack of energy, but part of it was the grim awareness that he was dying. Whether Aaron truly meant to take him to a doctor or not, Alexander would not make it. As dreadful as the thought was, Alexander did not weep. Washington would mourn, but Laurens and his mother were waiting for him on the other side. He saw them sometimes, when he found himself trapped between sleep and waking and unable to move. His visions of Laurens were the worst. Both Washington and his mother had the decency to flicker in and out of his vision, but Laurens seemed almost real. He could even hear his voice. More than once, Alexander could have sworn he felt his hand holding Alexander’s own. It was the most pleasant and torturous hallucination Alexander could have imagined, and he cursed his brain for tormenting him with memories of the dead. 

It was to Alexander’s great surprise that he woke up. He allowed himself a few moments to marvel at how good he felt. It was a relative definition of good, to be sure: his wounds still hurt, and there was a dull ache throughout his body, but he was awake and alert. He had survived. He opened his eyes and stared down at himself. Most of his body was concealed by a thin brown blanket, but he could see his left arm was bound in a sling. He wriggled his fingers and was relieved to see them move beneath the wrappings. Unless he was very much mistaken, he would not lose his arm. 

Once satisfied that he was in fact whole, Alexander turned his attention to the room around him. The building itself appeared to be a low wooden shack with just one window. There were six beds, including Alexander’s, each with a small chest for the occupant’s belongings. The space between them was barely wide enough for a man to pass, and the beds themselves were narrow and rickety. At each end of the room he could see shelves stocked with medical equipment and other sundry a hospital might need, but the stocks looked to be in short supply. The walls were decorated (if decorated was the right word) with a collection of paintings that Alexander would have burnt sooner than display. There was nothing offensive about peaceful depictions of mountains and lakes, but someone ought to have told the painter to focus on some other talent. Alexander could not imagine someone paying money for them. They must belong to the doctor himself, or perhaps they were a gift from a patient. 

It was with some difficulty that Alexander sat up. When he investigated, the clothes in his chest were not his own, save for his hat, which sat on top the pile along with the various things he had carried in his pockets. Given the state he must have been in when he arrived, Alexander strongly suspected his own clothes would have been burnt. The clothes he had left were not quite his size, but he pulled them on nonetheless. He was more concerned by the colour and styling of the outfit: he had not worn blue since Laurens had passed, too upset to even wear his friend’s favourite colour. The thought caused an entirely new kind of ache in Alexander’s chest. The last time Alexander had been ill, it had been Laurens who had coaxed him through his fever and helped him recover. His skill as a doctor had not diminished despite a lack of practice, and he had infinite patience for Alexander. He had dismissed all of Alexander’s grumbling with laughter and good humour. It was only now Alexander was alone that he realized how much that had meant to him.

There was no way for Alexander to tell precisely how long he had been in bed, but it had been at least half a day. Aaron would be miles away by now. Finding him a second time would not be so easy, but his crass dismissal of Laurens’ life had only cemented Alexander’s determination. As soon as he had recovered, Alexander would hunt Aaron down and kill him. 

The first step to that was to go outside, so Alexander walked slowly towards the door. He was dismayed by his slow and unsteady pace, but he did not give up. Once he reached the end of the room he leaned against the wall, taking a moment to catch his breath. It dawned on him that recovery may take longer than anticipated. Not to be deterred, he moved on. 

Beyond the door he found a second room, split into two parts by a dividing wall. In the rear section he could see a wide mattress set onto the ground, a dresser, and other basic amenities. The front section contained only a few chairs, a desk, and an exit. It was this last item that grabbed Alexander’s attention. He made his way over on shaking legs and stepped out into the bright afternoon sun.

The sun was so bright as to momentarily blind Alexander. Once the spots cleared from his vision, he stared at his surroundings. He had expected a small but prosperous town, indistinguishable from any other in the region. What he found instead was closer to a camp than a town. There appeared to be two buildings, not counting the one he had come from, all apparently made by the same amatuer builder. One of the buildings had no windows at all, but the other looked as though some effort had gone into it. Three windows were set into the side of the building, each with curtains fluttering in the breeze. There was a small porch, and someone had gone to the trouble of painting the door bright yellow. The rest of the town was a maze of tents and campfires. The largest fire-pit sat in the centre of the site, surrounded by low-slung benches made from fallen trees. Most alarming of all, the town appeared to consist entirely of women. The figures Alexander had initially assumed to be men were in fact women in pants and shirts. Absurdly, the sight made him flush. He had seen women in pants before, of course, and he knew it was commonplace for working women on the frontier - but still, that did not remove the shock. No woman in the city would have dreamed of dressing like that. 

Two of the women noticed him and stared. Alexander put on his most charming smile and tipped his hat to them, but he suspected his usual charm was ruined by his appearance. Someone had been kind enough to clean the blood from his skin, but he was certain he still looked a fright. The women leaned in and started speaking to each other in hushed voices. This gossip spread around the camp, until finally the whispers came to the ears of the woman apparently in charge. She was the tallest woman by far, standing nearly a full head taller than Alexander and made taller still by the elaborate braids piled atop her head. She straightened from her work and stared at Alexander from across the camp. Her gaze was sharp and piercing and made Alexander feel uncomfortably small. He smiled and nodded a greeting at her. She did not smile back. Instead, she picked up the small child at her feet and crossed the camp. Her voluminous skirts left a trail of dust behind her, but she did not seem to care about the dirt ruining her dress. It may have been that it was already ruined: Alexander could spy dark stains against the deep purple fabric.

Once she was close enough to address him without raising her voice, she spoke to him. “Mr Hamilton. You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“Then you have my apologies, Miss...?”

“Theodosia will do,” she said. Her lips pressed together and her eyes sparkled with something like amusement, but she did not smile. Alexander repeated her name. It was an unusual name, but Alexander was certain he had heard it before. 

“Theodosia, where am I?”

“You’re safe,” she said. The answer was as alarming as it was vague. Alexander could think of no good reason Theodosia could have to reassure him of his safety. It made sense if she knew how he had come to be there, yes, but he doubted Aaron had ridden into town in broad daylight. The thought of Aaron was enough to spark connection in Alexander’s brain. He turned a shade paler, the blood rushing from his face. Theodosia. The sheriff’s wife, kidnapped and held cruelly captive by the very villain Alexander had been tracking. Which meant -

Still reeling from his realization, Alexander looked around the camp with renewed horror. There were easily a half a dozen women there. And there was the child Theodosia carried. Alexander was far from an expert when it came to children, but Theodosia had been gone for nearly three years, and she had not been pregnant when she had vanished. The child in her arms could have been no more than a year at the most. Alexander had dismissed the rumours about Aaron Burr and women. He had not even considered the awful possibility that there may be a grain of truth to the rumours. When he looked back at Theodosia with undisguised pity in his face.

“I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”

That, at last, made Theodosia smile. It was not a grateful smile, or a happy smile, or even a wistful smile: it was dry and crooked, as though Alexander was missing out on the punchline to some secret joke. 

“You’ll regret it if you try. I - “

Before Theodosia could finish her sentence, the child in her arms squealed in excitement and started waving over her shoulder. “Daddy!”

Both Alexander and Theodosia looked in the direction the child had pointed. To the south, the campsite sloped down and away into a deep valley. A tangle of trees marked the edge of the campsite, too sparse to be a proper forest but too populous to be anything else. Coming up the hill was a group of five men. The first thing Alexander noticed was how they all seemed entirely at ease, joking and roughhousing and making enough noise for twice their number. In the lead was Aaron Burr, relaxed and laughing at something one of his companions had said. And just one step behind him, in defiance of all probability, walked John Laurens. Alexander’s head spun. He felt his knees buckle beneath him, and he would have crashed to the ground had Theodosia not caught him before he fell. His fall caught the attention of the group, and both Aaron and Laurens broke into a jog. They took a side each, hauling Alexander up to his feet.

“I can take it from here,” Laurens said. Aaron nodded, releasing Alexander and patting Laurens on the back before turning to Theodosia. As Laurens led him inside, Alexander could hear the child’s laughter and shrieks of delight as Aaron took her and lifted her high in the air. 

Once inside, it took everything Alexander had to make it back to the bed. He sat with relief. For a few moments that was all he did, letting Laurens fuss around him without comment. He was too exhausted to talk. If nothing else, his silence gave him a chance to inspect Laurens and gauge how Aaron was treating him. On the surface, he looked good. His clothes were made from simple materials, but finely cut and flattering despite being cut for practicality, not fashion. They were clean, too, as was Laurens himself: if his wet hair had not given him away, the sweet smell of soap clinging to his skin would have. But when Alexander looked at Laurens closer, he found cause for concern. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than Alexander had ever seen them, and there was a heavy, weary set to his shoulders. He looked exhausted. But as tired as he looked, there did not seem to be one single cut or bruise on his skin. Alexander breathed a sigh of relief. 

“You’re alive.”

Guilt flickered over Laurens’ face. “Yes.”

The relief that flooded through Alexander’s body was so potent he laughed. Laughing still made his wound ache, so he quieted quickly, but he did not stop staring at his friend in open amazement. Laurens sat on the edge of the bed beside him. He checked Alexander’s temperature with his hand, but after that he seemed content to merely sit with him. Alexander reached up and grasped his arm. Laurens was reassuringly real and solid, and healthy enough that although he had lost some fat, he had a healthy layer of muscle in its place.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” Laurens said in a soft voice. “I shouldn’t have let the others drag me down to the river. I didn’t think you’d be awake for a few more hours yet.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come for you earlier. If I’d known you were alive I wouldn’t have waited a day.”

“You weren’t supposed to come at all.”

Alexander smiled and squeezed his arm. “We’ll find a way out of this. You and I will be home by Christmas.”

Laurens’ face pinched together. He averted his gaze, staring at where his arm met Alexander’s hand rather than looking Alexander in the eyes. “No. That's not how this is going to go, Alexander.”

“It’s alright,” Alexander said soothingly. It hurt, but he shifted on the bed so he could wrap an arm around Laurens’ shoulders. He could not have hid the worry in his face if he tried, so he wore it openly and hoped it would remind Laurens he was not alone. “You’ve done what you needed to survive here, but you don’t have to just survive anymore. They can’t stand up to the two of us. We’ll take Burr down and get ourselves home, just you wait.”

“Alexander,” Laurens said. “Drop it. Please. I’ll explain everything once you’re better, I promise, but as your doctor, I need you to rest.”

“I can rest and plan at the same time,” Alexander protested. The look Laurens gave him was exasperated, softened only by the smile he could not entirely suppress. It was a familiar look, one Alexander had seen a thousand times before, and that more than anything soothed Alexander’s nerves. As his anxiety calmed, a rush of emotion ran through him. A lump appeared in his throat. “God, I missed you, Laurens.”

“I missed you to. I wish like hell you weren’t here, but there’s a selfish part of me that’s glad to see you. I couldn’t believe it when Aaron brought you in.”

“I can’t believe he kept his word to take me to a doctor. How long have I been here?”

“Nearly a week. You were delirious when we first got you in. It wasn’t until last night that your fever broke and you were able to get some rest.”

Laurens’ expression sobered, and his eyes wandered to where Alexander’s arm was contained in a sling. He did not say anything, but his silence said enough. His forehead creased as his eyebrows pinched together, and Alexander could have sworn his eyes looked suddenly damp and watery.

“You thought I was going to die,” Alexander said quietly. The idea did not frighten him as much as it should have. He was more alarmed by what it might mean for his recovery. A week-long fever was nothing to sneeze at, and Alexander would not be the first man to be permanently weakened by a severe fever. “How long until I’m back to normal?”

The question jolted Laurens out of whatever reverie his grief had pulled him into. He jumped at the question, his eyes widening before he settled down and thought about the question. “I can’t give you a straight answer. I didn’t think you’d be out of bed for another week yet. If you rest, and if you follow my instructions, it will happen sooner rather than later.”

“But it will happen?”

“Yes,” Laurens said without hesitation. “Barring some kind of disaster, there’s no reason you shouldn’t recover - in time.”

Relief flooded through Alexander. The timescale gave him some concern, especially given he was miles from civilization and at the mercy of the man who had shot him, but that was a worry for another time. He would recover. The promise gave him something to work towards, and something to cling to when the situation seemed too desperate. He could work with this. He had to. 

The conversation turned to lighter topics until there came a knock on the door. Before either of them could answer, a man stepped in with two plates of food and a jug of water. He was a stranger to Alexander, but Laurens greeted him with a smile so warm and affectionate that Alexander could not help but stare. He had thought he had known Laurens better than he knew himself, but he had never seen him look at anyone like that. It was enough to make him take a second look at the newcomer. He was a tall man with dark eyes and dark hair, which he wore long enough to tie back despite the current fashions. Alexander might have liked him for that (he, too, had long hair, and had ignored many suggestions that he should get it cut) if not for the pistol strapped to his hip. However friendly he seemed, this was one of Aaron’s men.

“Pardon me for interrupting, but I thought both of you could use a bite to eat.”

“You’re right. Let me see what you’ve brought,” Laurens said. He stood close to the newcomer inspected the plates with a critical eye, shuffling a few things back and forth between them. Alexander’s stomach rumbled. For the first time since waking, he realized how very hungry he was. But unfortunately for his appetite, Laurens had different ideas. He removed anything rich or fatty from Alexander’s plate, insisting he stick to a simple diet for at least another day. He could have whatever he liked, Laurens promised, as soon as he’d proven he could keep the food down.

“Will you eat with us?” Laurens asked. The stranger shook his head and squeezed Laurens’ shoulder.

“I’ll leave you two to catch up, but come find me later.”

The door was shut for all of ten seconds before Alexander asked, “Who was that?”

“Bellamy,” Laurens said. There was a peculiar little smile on his face when he said the name. He paused afterwards and looked at Alexander, and some of the brightness in his smile dimmed a little. “He’s a good friend.”

“He’s a friend of Burr’s, too, I bet,” Alexander muttered darkly. Laurens chose to ignore this, instead changing the topic to ask for news of their mutual acquaintances. It was a transparent move, but Alexander was willing to allow it for now. There would be time to get information out of Laurens later. For now, Alexander focused on his meal and his relief at having Laurens back. 

Shortly after lunch, Alexander found himself dosing. At the very first yawn, Laurens took his plate away. At the second, he stood up and closed the curtains. By the time he left, Alexander was half asleep and barely able to keep his eyes open. It was only as Laurens stepped out of the room that Alexander noticed Laurens still carried his gun. It was the last coherent thought Alexander drifted off to sleep. He woke twice throughout the night and, each time hearing the familiar sound of Laurens snoring from the bed next to him, he fell back asleep. The third time he woke, Laurens was gone and the curtains had been opened. Bright sunlight streamed in through the open window, and Alexander could hear the sounds of people laughing and talking outside. He considered investigating, but decided against it. After yesterday’s embarrassingly public collapse, he would rather test his strength inside before venturing out in public. 

He was not given long to himself before Laurens returned bearing his morning meal. The meal itself was nothing to be excited about, but Alexander’s mood lifted when he spied a large mug of black coffee. Laurens laughed at his enthusiasm.

“Don’t drink too much,” he warned. “You’re going to be resting, remember.”

“You could at least move me to the bed by the window,” Alexander bargained. To his surprise, Laurens agreed instantly and set about moving his things across. It was not his friend’s agreement that surprised Alexander, but his ability to act on it. Alexander had expected Laurens to regretfully deny him, or maybe promise to look into it, but not to simply agree. At first this cheered Alexander considerably, as it suggested Laurens was treated better than Alexander had originally feared. But then he remembered Laurens’ gun, and his good mood vanished. There was more than one explanation for Laurens' confidence and apparent liberty, but it was not one Alexander liked to consider. Alexander did not like to be suspicious of his friend. A week ago, he would have said Laurens’ loyalty was absolute; but then, a week ago, he would have said Laurens was dead. 

If Laurens knew of Alexander’s suspicions, he gave no signs of it. Once they had moved Alexander to the bed by the window, he resumed his seat by Alexander’s side. They passed the morning in pleasant conversation, reminiscing and trading stories about the past year. Laurens was remarkably candid about life in the camp. The camp sat somewhere in the middle of the great mountain range that divided the local region in two. That much Alexander had surmised from his few minutes outside, but it was still surreal to hear it stated plainly. There were no known crossings of the mountains to the east or the west for hundreds of miles. It explained neatly how Aaron had evaded capture all these years. No one outside knew that this valley existed, let alone where to find it. 

“Do you know how he gets in and out?” Alexander wanted to know. 

“I couldn’t point to it on a map. The entire place is a maze.”

The answer could not have been more evasive. Unsatisfied, Alexander pushed harder, but Laurens would not give a single inch. The more he dodged the question, the deeper Alexander’s heart sank. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Alexander asked plaintively. Before Laurens could answer, there was a knock at the door. Alexander expected it to be Bellamy, perhaps with more food and drink, but it was Aaron himself who stepped in. He had swapped out his trademark crimson jacket for the same plain and sturdy clothes the rest of the camp seemed to favour. The red bandana was gone, replaced with a baby blue one tied at the neck. He took his hat off as he stepped over the doorstep and set it on one of the shelves.

“Pardon me, Doctor Laurens, but I was hoping to spend a few minutes with Alexander - provided he’s well enough for visitors.”

As Laurens turned to face Aaron, Alexander caught a glimpse of his expression: eyebrows raised, mouth set into a flat, disapproving line. “And what makes you think Alexander would want you as a visitor?”

“It’s alright, Laurens,” Alexander said quietly. “You don’t need to protect me.”

“Of course I need -”

“Five minutes, Doctor,” Aaron interrupted. “And you have my word I will leave the instant Alexander asks it of me.”

“Fine. Five minutes,” Laurens said. He got to his feet quickly, and he made no attempt to hide the irritation in his voice. “But I expect both of you to behave.”

“When am I not on my best behaviour?” Aaron asked with a charming smile. To Alexander’s outrage, that earned a poorly suppressed snort of laughter from Laurens as he walked out the door. Aaron approached Alexander’s bedside slowly. He carried with him a stack of books which Alexander eyed with open envy. He set them down on the small table next to Alexander and took a seat at the foot of the bed.

“I believe I owe you an apology.”

“What?” Alexander blurted. His eyes moved from the books to Aaron’s face, expecting to see mockery and laughter there. Instead, the man looked the very picture of contrition. 

“I acted rashly in Burridge. I should never have let you goad me into a duel so easily. I can explain my actions, but I cannot excuse them.”

“Explain them, then,” Alexander demanded. He did not intend to believe a word of it, but the more information he pulled from Aaron the better.

“I was frightened,” Aaron said. There was an uncomfortable honesty to those words, and both men looked away from each other. “You threatened my sister. Laurens has assured me you never would have allowed her to come to harm, but you must understand, I had no way of knowing that. I took you at your word and assumed you were a threat.”

“Laurens told you?”

For some reason, the skepticism in Alexander’s tone made Aaron smile. “Yes. I’ve never seen him so angry before. You’re lucky to have him as a friend.”

The words made guilt churn in Alexander’s gut. He felt bad enough about his suspicions regarding Laurens’ allegiance, and Aaron’s words rubbed salt in the wound. Could he still call Laurens his friend? Either Laurens had betrayed him, or Alexander was harbouring doubts towards one of the most honest and trusting people he had ever known. Neither option boded well for their future friendship. To distract himself from such uncomfortable thoughts, he latched on to a new topic.

“You told me he was dead.”

“No. I let you believe he was dead,” Aaron corrected. He was very confident and proper when correcting Alexander on the point, but a moment later, he looked almost sheepish. “I did not intend to let you find out otherwise.”

“Why not?”

“That’s something you’d best take up with Laurens himself,” Aaron said. “But I can assure you, it was not out of malice.”

“No?” Alexander sneered. “Nothing you do is out of malice, from how you’d tell it, but I know better. I did my research, I read what you’ve done. And I saw those women out there, Burr. I saw the child. Or doesn’t that count as malicious in your mind?”

Aaron stared at Alexander, his mouth slightly parted. His brow pinched together as he thought, as if Alexander had said something completely nonsensical. Alexander could pinpoint the exact moment he connected the dots as his eyes widened. Then, rather than the denial Alexander had expected, Aaron sighed. He crossed one arm over his chest while the other pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, for the love of God.”

“Hah! You admit it,” Alexander crowed, triumphant. He felt uncomfortable delighting in the degradation of Aaron’s victims, but took comfort in the fact that he would one day liberate them. 

“You spoke to Prevost, didn’t you?”

“Like I said: I did my research. There are plenty of men out there who know what you’re like.”

Aaron snorted. “Did you try talking to women?”

Alexander stared at him, nonplussed. “I beg your pardon?”

“What am I saying? Of course you didn’t. That would be ludicrous,” Aaron muttered to himself. He straightened a little and looked Alexander in the eye. “Listen to me, Alexander. The only prisoner here is you. Everyone else in this camp is here of their own free will.”

“I don’t believe you,” Alexander said flatly. There were a thousand counter-arguments he could have raised, all lurking on the tip of his tongue, but he held them back for now. Until he knew more of Aaron’s temper, he wanted to keep individuals like Laurens or Theodosia out of it.

“Well, there’s nothing I can say to that. But it’s true. That’s the other reason I came to visit,” Aaron said, moving smoothly past the disagreement as if Alexander’s denial meant nothing to him. “As you might have noticed, this isn’t the town I promised to take you to. I never meant to bring you here.”

“Then why did you?”

“Your infection was spreading at an alarming rate. By the time I realized we should have given up your arm and made for Michel’s Creek, it was too late. Laurens was the only doctor I could get you to in time.”

“I’m not thanking you. You’re the one that shot me.”

“I’m not asking for thanks,” Aaron said with a shake of his head. “I’m apologizing for bringing you here. It may have saved your life, but I’m afraid we can’t let you leave.”

“I wasn’t expecting an outlaw to let me go,” Alexander said steadily. Aaron did not rise to the bait.

“I’m hoping that once you get out among the community, your perspective will change. In the meantime, I brought you these,” Aaron said. He patted the books on the bedside. Alexander’s eyes followed the motion, and he could not have hid the desire in his face if he tried. “You mentioned you were a scholar that night in the tavern. We don’t have many books out here, but what we have, you're welcome to share."

“In exchange for what?” Alexander asked suspiciously. His eyes narrowed, but he did not take his eyes off the books.

“Nothing. Consider it an olive branch, if you must.”

It was a bribe, then. But it was a bribe with no immediate price, and no obvious caveats that Alexander could see. There was a risk this bargain could bite Alexander in the ass later, but he had never been very good at planning ahead. Rather than thanking Aaron, he reached with his good arm, and took one of the books. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aaron smile.

“I’ll leave you to it. Do you mind being on your own for a while? I know Bellamy was planning on taking Laurens for a walk.”

“Fine. Get out,” Alexander said. If Aaron took offense at Alexander’s blunt response, he did not show it. He left with a smile on his face, pausing only to pick up his hat on the way out the room.

Rather than reading, Alexander used the opportunity to peer through the window. Laurens was nowhere to be seen, so he watched Aaron cross the camp to where Theodosia was tending a small garden. She did not seem alarmed by his approach. On the contrary, she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and immediately took the chance to hand the child at her hip over to him. Even at a distance, Alexander could make out the tender expression on Aaron’s face as he lifted the child into his arms. The thought made Alexander uncomfortable. As much as he loathed Aaron, it was not a happy thought to think he had a child who might miss him when Alexander’s work was done.

He watched the two of them converse for a while. Both of them looked to be happy and at ease, and every now and then Aaron would say something to make Theodosia laugh. Theodosia’s behaviour was baffling to Alexander. He had heard of hostages growing sympathetic towards their captors before, but he had never seen anything like this. There were no signs that she disliked Aaron’s attention. She watched Aaron as he walked away, not with the wary stare of a cowed prisoner, but with an expression that would have been called a leer on a man. She watched until he turned a corner before returning to her work. 

As tempting as the books were, Alexander spent the next few minutes staring out the window. With the exception of Theodosia, none of the people he had met thus far were in sight, so he let his attention wander freely. Once again, he found himself fascinated by the women there. No one seemed alarmed by how many of the women wore pants, despite such things being illegal in more cosmopolitan states. Many of them even carried weapons, an observation that baffled Alexander. He thought again of Aaron’s claim they were there willingly, and wondered. It seemed too far-fetched to be real, but if it were true, then there must be a reason. 

Once he grew bored of watching them work, Alexander turned his attention to the books Aaron had brought him. There were three of them, each addressing a different topic. There was an anatomy text, a thick volume on Roman philosophy, and finally a book containing many of Shakespeare’s plays. Alexander settled on the philosophy book and started reading. 

Alexander was given a full two hours to himself before Laurens returned. The weariness that had concerned Alexander so much the day before had all but vanished. There were still dark marks under his eyes, but his posture was relaxed and satisfied. He had changed his outfit, too, into a shirt that was made for someone much taller than him. He had tied a bandana around his neck in the fashion of a typical cowboy or farmhand, adding a shock of blue to his outfit. When he caught Alexander looking, he flushed and tugged the bandana up a little higher.

“Did Aaron apologize?” he asked, before Alexander could get his question out.

“Yes. Did you really just go for a walk?”

“We walked,” Laurens said. “Did you accept the apology?”

“Please, I’m not an idiot,” Alexander snorted, while Laurens looked at him as though he very much was one. “I know better than to take Burr at his word.”

“You can trust him, you know,” Laurens said, dropping into the seat next to Alexander. Ignoring Alexander’s spluttered protests, he cast a curious eye over the books. His smile widened a little at the sight of the anatomy volume. He picked it up and flipped through the pages, occasionally pausing to look at a diagram. “He brought me this not long after I arrived. It’s been useful for reviewing anatomy without the usual comforts of a university.”

“You trust him,” Alexander said. It was not a question. Laurens did not treat it as one, nor did he attempt to deny it. He set the book down with a sigh.

“Yes. But I’m not telling you why, not until you’re able to walk and look after yourself.”

No matter how much Alexander begged, pleaded and threatened, Laurens would not budge. His stubbornness alarmed Alexander. There had never been any secrets between the two of them before. Given how much they had shared with each other before, Alexander struggled to imagine what Laurens might have seen or done that was so dreadful he was unwilling to share.

Instead of arguing, Laurens and Alexander spent the afternoon on games and gossip. Laurens had with him a small board for Nine Men’s Morris, and Alexander took great delight in thoroughly trouncing him at every round. When they grew tired of that, they reverted to window watching. The camp consisted of around a dozen individuals. Laurens could not give a precise number, as there were a handful of people who came and went between cattle drives. They were all outcasts of some sort, and most had broken the law, but Laurens insisted that did not make them outlaws in the traditional sense. When Alexander pressed him for a clearer explanation, he said,

“Some laws are unjust.”

“Most laws are just.”

“Please,” Laurens said with a snort. “I lived with you, Alexander. I know how you live.”

“Those don’t count!” Alexander protested hotly. He had committed a multitude of petty crimes in his time, but none of them had hurt anyone. 

“Exactly,” Laurens said, looking smug. Alexander glared at him, but he suspected the expression came off as more of a pout. It was rare for him to argue with Laurens, and rarer still for him to lose. There must still be traces of fever clouding his thought, he decided. 

“Even so, you can’t expect me to believe that’s all the people here get up to.”

“Sexual decency laws are probably what get broken the most around here,” Laurens said with a shrug. “So long as everyone involved is enjoying themselves, people around here don’t care what you do.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t have to. It’s true.”

The two of them stared at each other for a few moments. It was Alexander who broke first, looking outside the window. A dreadful suspicion had settled into the back of his mind. Laurens was a good man, but he was only human. The allure of a place where he could safely bed as many men as he desired could well have swayed his conviction in what was right. For a moment, Alexander had the ludicrous mental image of Aaron seducing Laurens to win his loyalty. The thought made Alexander flush. His heart pounded in his chest, and he pushed the thought away. However angry the thought made him, it was too ridiculous to be true. After a long pause, Laurens conceded,

“I won’t pretend it’s all innocent. We try to be self sufficient, but we steal what we can’t get. Well, Aaron steals. He’s rubbish in a fight, but he’s got the brains and charm to avoid getting caught.”

“He shot me,” Alexander pointed out indignantly, and pointed to the wound on his chest. The frown on Laurens’ face deepened.

“The way he tells it, it was a duel.” At Alexander’s nod, Laurens relaxed a little. “Then you tried to shoot him, too. You’re both idiots. The only thing I can’t figure is how you missed and he didn’t. Aaron couldn’t hit the side of a barn at ten paces, let alone a target the size of you. And you’re normally one of the best shots I’ve seen.”

“Of course,” Alexander grumbled. “The one shot I miss, and it’s the most important one of my life.”

“Come off it, Alexander. I know the bounty on Aaron is big, but there are bigger fish to fry. He’s hardly the most important target of your life.”

“I’m not in it for the money,” Alexander snapped. “He killed - “ He cut himself off and made a frustrated noise. “I was trying to avenge you, you dumbass. You didn’t see what he did to whatever poor bastard they dressed up in your clothes.”

For a long moment, there was silence. The shock was plain on Laurens’ face, as if he had not considered the idea that Alexander might be motivated by vengeance. 

“I did see,” Laurens said at length, with something that looked like guilt on his face. Before Alexander could press further, he added, “I can’t tell you Alexander, not yet. But if you promise not to ask for the rest of the day, I’ll help you outside.”

It was a bad bargain, but too tempting for Alexander to resist. Laurens helped him put on a pair of boots and a vest before he stood. With Laurens supporting him, he hobbled to the entrance and out onto the small porch outside the makeshift hospital. Alexander breathed deeply. Some of the anxiety swirling in his stomach eased. The air smelled clean, and the spring sun was warm without being hot. In the end, Laurens let him sit outside for three whole hours. It was only when Alexander started yawning that he insisted on returning him to bed. As much as Alexander complained, he let Laurens usher him to bed and fell fast asleep before Laurens could even close the curtains.


	5. Loyalty

One whole week passed before Alexander was, in Laurens’ terms, fit to fend for himself. He could bathe and dress without help and walk as far as the nearest campfire. Critically, he no longer needed Laurens hovering by his side, ready to lend aid when he inevitably collapsed. He was a long way from making a daring escape, but for now, it would do.

“That’s your last excuse done,” Alexander said triumphantly the very second he had managed his first solo trip. He almost regretted it when he watched Laurens’ expression fall. Laurens looked away, staring out at the wilderness surrounding the camp. Alexander grabbed his shoulder. “Hey. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

He tried to make eye contact, but Laurens avoided his gaze. “I don’t want to do this. I’m not ready for you to look at me the way you look at Aaron.”

“Whatever you did, it can’t be that bad,” Alexander shook his head. Despite the fact that he had just celebrated his ability to stand alone, he wrapped an arm around Laurens’ shoulders. Laurens’ words were alarming, but Alexander’s conviction was strong. No matter what he had done, it could not make him as bad as Aaron Burr. When Laurens shook his head and said nothing, Alexander decided it was time to trick him into talking. Whatever it was he had done, Alexander was sure he could imagine worse.

“Did you kill someone?”

The pause following the question was so long and tense Alexander found it hard to breathe. After what felt like an age, Laurens pulled away and turned back towards the hospital. “Let’s do this inside.”

He walked ahead, leaving Alexander gaping after him. Before he could follow, Aaron stepped up by his side. 

“Go easy on him, Alexander,” Aaron said. The words did nothing to settle Alexander’s nerves. He followed after Laurens without a single word to Aaron. His mind whirled with possibilities. Each thought was darker than the last, but through it all, there was a part of Alexander that had faith. Surely his fears could not be true. If it had been anyone else, Alexander would have jumped to the worst conclusion without hesitation, but this was John Laurens. There was no one else in the world Alexander trusted as much as his friend. It was time, he thought, to prove that. By the time he made it inside, he had made up his mind.

“I’ll hear you out,” he told Laurens. “No matter what you have to tell me.”

Rather than returning Alexander to bed, they pulled two chairs to his beside. It leveled the playing field, turning them into equals rather than doctor and patient. Laurens had brought with him two bottles of beer, one of which he offered to Alexander. Before he said a single word, he downed nearly half of his bottle for courage. Alexander raised an eyebrow. When he could avoid it no longer, Laurens spoke.

“I’m not a prisoner. I started out as one, but I’ve been free to leave for close to ten months now.”

Alexander ran the numbers in his head. Something twisted in his chest, and dread settled into the pit of his stomach. “That’s when they found the body. Did you -- ”

“Yes,” Laurens said, and took another drink of his beer. “I didn’t want anyone coming to find me. No one would believe I was here by choice, and I knew you’d come if you thought there was any chance I was still alive. You’d find us, and then what? There was no scenario that didn’t end up with someone I loved dead or imprisoned. I couldn’t risk that.”

“You killed someone just to throw me off?” Alexander asked incredulously. He stared at Laurens as if seeing him for the first time. Half of it seemed plausible: he could not deny that he would have tried to track Laurens down long ago if he had thought there was any hope of finding him alive. Even if Laurens had sent a letter explaining the situation, Alexander would not have believed it. But for him to resort to such desperate measures seemed painfully out of character. Laurens had many flaws, but as short as his temper was, he was not vicious. No matter how hard he tried, Alexander could not believe Laurens had murdered a man in cold blood.

“No! It’s - well, it’s a long story, but some people here didn’t like that I was staying. They tried to take matters into their own hands. They weren’t expecting me to fight back, or that the others would take my side. Two died in the fight, and the third was hanged. Once they were dead, we took one of the bodies and - God.”

Laurens swallowed heavily. His hands started to shake, and his eyes stared blankly into the distance. “I’m glad you didn’t have to see that. It was - they were already dead, it didn’t hurt them. The blood was mostly cow blood. But I can still see it.”

“Hey,” Alexander said. He leaned forward and put his good hand on Laurens’ arm. “Laurens. Listen to me. They were dead. It’s done.”

“Right,” Laurens said. He let out a shaky little laugh. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? I had no problem killing them, and it’s not like I haven’t seen blood before. But sometimes I can’t stop thinking about them.”

“That’s good,” Alexander told him, even though the tears in Laurens’ eyes broke his heart. He may have been angry at Laurens for his betrayal, but that could not destroy the affection he had for his friend. “I wouldn’t want to be friends with a man who could mutilate a body like that without a regret.”

“We’re still friends?” Laurens asked cautiously.

“We’re still friends,” Alexander agreed. Laurens slumped back into his chair in relief. There were still a million questions swarming in Alexander’s head, but he set them aside for the time being. Laurens was in no state to answer questions now. Instead, Alexander pulled out a Nine Men's Morris board and set it up to play. Now that he was confident Laurens would share his story in time, the urgency faded from Alexander’s mind. He could wait until Laurens had recovered from whatever fit of contrition had taken him. He was not a patient man, but for his friend, he would try.

It took Laurens two minutes to place his first piece on the board, and three minutes for the second. His strategy was terrible, but Alexander held back. Every time Laurens picked up one of the small wooden balls used for the game, he would roll it around between his thumb and forefinger. Each time he did so, he seemed to relax a little more. By the end of their third game (a short time, as Laurens was playing worse than usual), he was smiling again.

“Can we keep playing?” he asked. “It helps me think.”

Alexander agreed without hesitation. Laurens set down the first piece for the new game and started to explain:

“I spent six days in Michel’s Creek when I arrived. I knew the doctor from the Great Rebellion, and people were more than willing to talk to me. I couldn’t make heads or tails of the gossip flying around - you must have heard the sort. Half the town thinks he’s the devil, and the other half thinks he’s Robin Hood.”

“Which is he?”

“Don’t interrupt,” Laurens said, and promptly took one of Alexander’s pieces from the board. “He’s neither, of course, but he does try to only steal from people who can afford it. No one’s gone hungry because of us. But you’re distracting me. I set out west on the seventh day, but I never made it to the next town. Aaron and some of the others ambushed me on the road. I’d like to say I put up a good fight, but the four of them sprung up while I was sleeping. I never even got a chance to raise my gun.

“I thought that was the end, but they didn’t hurt me. They asked if it was true I was a doctor. I said I was, so they tied me up, blindfolded me and stuck me on the back of a horse. They didn’t take the blindfold off until they had me here.”

“But why did they need a doctor?” Alexander wanted to know. Laurens raised his eyebrows as if Alexander should have been able to guess. He glanced out the window, then nodded outside to indicate Alexander should take a look. Baffled, Alexander did so. He could see various members of the camp going about their business, working or talking or simply enjoying the sunshine. As was now his habit, Alexander sought out any signs of Aaron. He had not left after warning Alexander to take it easy on Laurens. Instead, he had sat down on a log with his child in his lap. He pointed at people and things around the camp and named them one by one, always pausing after to let the child babble. No matter what she said, he smiled and spoke to her, but it was clear when she got things right: his entire face lit up, and the girl was rewarded with a kiss on the top of her head. 

“Little Theo’s a year old in a couple of weeks,” Laurens said from beside him. Alexander looked back, and saw Laurens had neatly removed another two pieces from the board while Alexander was distracted. At this rate, Laurens might just win the game. Alexander found himself too intrigued to care. If the price for this information was a game or two, it was a price he was happy to pay. 

“You’re not exactly an expert in childbirth,” Alexander pointed out. 

Laurens laughed. “I told Aaron the same thing, so he went out and stole that anatomy textbook. He was desperate. The doctors around here hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about Theodosia’s miscarriages in the past, and the last one had nearly killed her.”

Alexander’s expression darkened. “So he raped a woman and got her pregnant, then panicked?”

“God, no!” Laurens started. His eyes widened and he seemed genuinely horrified at the suggestion. The strength of the reaction surprised Alexander: Laurens was one of his dearest friends, but empathy for women had never been one of his strong suits. He would never have approved of assaulting a woman, but he would not have been so utterly filled with revulsion a year ago. “Aaron would never! Look, I know he’s done some bad things, but Aaron would shoot himself in the face before he did that to a woman. Hell, Theodosia would shoot him first. She doesn’t tolerate that kind of thing, whether it’s directed at her or someone else.

“There’s none of that sort of behaviour here. A man would have to be stupid to try it,” Laurens continued. “One man tried to stick his hand up a lady’s skirt. We executed him.”

Alexander stared dumbly at Laurens. “Executed?”

“He got a trial,” Laurens said. “Though I wonder if he would have if the girl had gone to Aaron first instead of her friends. He wanted to shoot the man on the spot.”

“What kind of trial could he get out here?” Alexander asked, as though that were the most incredulous part of the story. There were no laws out here, and there was no way a jury could be brought together. Even if they could, no jury would convict a man of such an offence, let alone sentence him to death. But, Laurens insisted, they made do. The community was small enough that they could all consult on any rules or infractions that arose, and everyone got a vote. Laurens chest puffed out in pride at the last part as he emphasized the word ‘everyone’. Alexander stared at him in wonder. This place had changed Laurens more than he could have imagined. 

“I never thought I’d see you supporting women’s suffrage.”

Offense flickered over Laurens face, and for one unbelievable moment Alexander thought he was going to argue. The moment passed as quickly as it came. When it did, Laurens leaned back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair with a sheepish grin.

“I did used to be an ass about that, didn’t I? I probably still am to an extent, but I’ve had the worst of it thrashed out of me - not literally!” he tacked on the last part, seeing Alexander’s look of alarm. “Although I’m sure some of the people around here were tempted. But they weren’t gentle when arguing with me, and it’s hard to stick to an argument like that when you’re surrounded by women who can outsmart you. I didn’t realize that was possible. I thought all women cared about was marriage and dresses.”

“I suppose that’s not an option for them out here,” Alexander mused. “So what do they talk about?”

“The same things anyone else would talk about,” Laurens said with a shrug. “Except Theodosia. Aaron’s the only one that can keep up with her when she gets started on politics and religion. I bet she could give even you a run for your money.”

“If she’s so smart, why hasn’t she escaped?“

Laurens gave Alexander an odd look. “Because she wants to be here, of course.” 

The words seemed out of place to Alexander, and he reconsidered his what he knew about Theodosia. He trusted Laurens’ word, but on this one matter, he was more concerned with Theodosia’s opinion herself. He had only had one conversation with her, and it had been cryptic and confusing at best. It had sounded like a warning, but now Alexander looked at in a new light, realization dawned.

“She threatened me!”

Laurens started to laugh. Alexander had only spoken to Theodosia once, and she had used that opportunity to tell him he would regret it if he tried to take her away. He had assumed she was warning him about Aaron. In retrospect, that made little sense. For one thing, she had been far too amused for it to be a warning. She was not an innocent victim in need of rescue, but as dangerous as Aaron himself. 

There was a second conclusion, even more mind-boggling than the first. Aaron had told him the truth: the people in the camp were happy to be there. It sounded ludicrous, and common sense begged Alexander to deny it, but there was too much evidence. It was the little things that did it. Theodosia’s threats. The strange boldness of the women around here, and Aaron’s comments about them. Even Laurens’ newfound concern for women suggested something unusual was at work. He looked back at his friend pensively. Once he had caught his breath, Laurens said,

“You’ll see soon enough. If you’re up for it, I thought we could join the others outside for dinner.”

“You still haven’t finished your story,” Alexander pointed out. Laurens sighed, but agreed to summarize the remaining details. Theodosia’s pregnancy had not been a simple one. There had been complications, and Aaron had insisted Laurens extend his stay after the birth. Laurens had agreed without hesitation. Even after Aaron was content to let him leave, Laurens had felt obliged to stay on for a time for the health of the mother and the child. It took three whole months before Laurens felt secure in leaving his patients. By that point, he did not want to leave. He was very careful not to say ‘why’, dancing around the question and outright changing the topic when Alexander asked. 

“Most people agreed to let me stay right away,” Laurens concluded. “The ones that didn’t tried to get rid of me themselves - but you know how that part ends.”

“It sounds like this place has a pretty high death rate,” Alexander pointed out. “Those three, the man that tried to sleep with that woman...”

Laurens shrugged, unbothered by the observation. “If they didn’t want to die, they shouldn’t have attacked anyone. It’s not like we can build jails out here. We can’t just send them away, or they might lead someone to us. If they’re dangerous, we don’t have much choice.”

While Laurens did have a good point, Alexander refused to cede it. The two of them bickered throughout the rest of the afternoon. It was not until they could smell roasting meat from the fire that they realized they had spent the entire evening arguing. Laurens looked sheepish when he realized the time, but Alexander grinned. He’d missed arguing with Laurens. They agreed on the things that mattered, which meant their arguments often shifted into loudly and vigorously agreeing with one another. When their arguments were earnest, as this one was, they leeched the anger and bitterness out of Alexander without poisoning the friendship. 

The grin on Alexander’s face banished the uncertainty from Laurens’, and the two of them were in high spirits when they ventured outside. The rest of the camp was in a similarly good mood. Every person had gathered around the largest fire where dinner was being prepared. Laurens’ friend Bellamy seemed to be in charge of the cooking, but he had plenty of helpers. Even Aaron was doing his share, chopping vegetables under Bellamy’s watchful eye. The Theodosias sat beside him, the younger attempting to imitate her father by bashing at a pile of leaves with a stick she had found. 

To Alexander’s dismay, Laurens took them over to sit by the small family. He paused on his way past Bellamy, murmuring something Alexander could not hear and lightly touching his arm before continuing on. Unsure of what to do, Alexander settled for giving him a polite nod when he passed. As soon as they were settled, one of the chefs passed beer over to their position. 

As friendly as the situation was, Alexander found himself uncertain. Despite everything Laurens had said, this was a troupe of outlaws. The beer they were drinking was almost certainly stolen, along with the crockery and cutlery they were using. And yet - the people were happy and carefree, and did not seem disposed to violence. Many of them were Laurens’ friends, something Alexander took as a great recommendation. The two concepts were impossible to reconcile. 

No one embodied this struggle more than Aaron. When Alexander thought of him, he thought of Texas Red, the outlaw he had met in Burridge, dressed in red and armed to the teeth. He thought of the pistol he had glimpsed in Michel’s Creek with the notches marking the dead. Worst of all, he thought of the long feverish journey at the mercy of a known murderer. None of those thoughts aligned with the man before Alexander’s eyes. Here, Aaron was nothing more than a doting father and a much-loved member of the community. The observation fit well with Laurens’ narrative, but not yet with Alexander’s beliefs. It would take more than Laurens’ word to convince him Aaron deserved mercy. 

It was not long before Alexander grew bored of watching Aaron chop vegetables and turned his attention to the rest of the crowd. Men and women mingled freely, without any of the social standards Alexander was used to. Women everywhere were drinking, smoking and gambling with the same enthusiasm as their male friends. Most of all, Alexander was distracted by womens’ dress. There was something he thought distinctly unfeminine about pants and shirts, but that did not stop him from inappropriate thoughts about legs.

“Where do they even get the pants from?” Alexander asked Laurens in a low voice.

“Hercules. Now that you’re on the feet, you’ll want to talk to him about getting some clothes made. We’re lucky to have him, he’s the best damn tailor I’ve had.”

“Which one is he?”

Laurens pointed at a large man on the other side of the fire telling bawdy jokes to a laughing audience. The jokes were barely acceptable for a polite company of men, but that did not stop him from telling them to men and women both. Indeed, one of the women seemed determined to outdo him. The jokes grew filthier and filthier as Alexander watched, and after almost a full minute of staring he realized this was a bizarre form of flirting. He flushed and looked away quickly. Off to the side, he heard Laurens snigger and pass him another beer. 

Shortly before the meal was due to be served, Aaron got to his feet and clapped his hands together twice. The entire camp went silent.

“Before we begin, I’d like to take a moment to introduce you to an acquaintance of mine,” he announced. “Alexander?”

It took a little shove from Laurens to get Alexander moving. When he stood, he stared at the people around the fire, silently memorizing their faces.

“Alexander is an old friend to Doctor Laurens,” Aaron continued. “He and I have had our differences, but it is my hope that in time, we will move past those.”

“You shot me,” Alexander pointed out. 

“And you tried to shoot me,” Aaron shot back with a charming smile. “It was a duel. You can’t blame me for hitting my target.”

That won a round of laughter. Alexander fumed, and he took a vicious pleasure in hearing a few people call out their disbelief that Aaron had managed to hit something. To Alexander’s surprise, Aaron took the teasing with good humour and good grace. He made more than a few jokes at his own expense, and often turned people’s comments back on themselves so that they were the butt of the joke. He did not stop down until a bowl of food was placed into his hand. He passed it immediately off to the person next to him and refused to settle down until every last person had something to eat. 

After the meal, someone pointed out that they had not heard Alexander’s perspective on the duel. It was not a chance Alexander had expected. He started simply, introducing himself and his employment. He then started listing the crimes of Texas Red: murder, kidnapping, robbery and more. As he did so, he kept a sharp eye on his audience. To his dismay, the group nodded along with the crimes without disapproval or surprise. Alexander’s heart sank. His last, desperate hope had been that people did not know the extent of Aaron’s crimes, but the opposite seemed to be true.

“All those crimes add up to a $5000 bounty on Burr’s head.”

Silence. The crowd did not take well to the financial motive. Alexander decided to try a different angle. “That was why they sent Laurens after him. He disappeared, and four months later I read in the paper that he was dead. Murdered for trying to do what was right. They printed a photo of that decoy body you set up. I saw that and thought that was what was left of my best friend.”

Around the fire, Alexander saw a few people nodding and muttering to each other. He wondered if it was ironic that a band of criminals cared more about justice than money. Perhaps it was not: Alexander’s motivation could easily be called a lust for vengeance and not justice. And if these people counted Laurens as one of their own, they would be sympathetic to Alexander’s position. Alexander milked that empathy for all it was worth. Laurens himself looked pale and shaken at Alexander’s blunt description of his grief. His eyes were wide with guilt and regret, and Alexander wondered if he was being cruel. He did not dwell on the thought for long. 

A few people asked Alexander questions, and Alexander answered them as best he could. He tired quickly. He had by and large recovered from his fever, but the fatigue still haunted him. The minute Laurens saw him yawn, he stepped in. A few people complained (including Alexander) but Laurens shook his head and shepherded Alexander off to bed. Most people gave up when Laurens reminded him of his medical training, but Alexander himself did not stop complaining until he found himself back in the cabin. Laurens helped him settle in to bed, checking his wounds and helping him change into his nightclothes.

"Was it really that bad?" he asked softly. Alexander looked down and away. 

"Yes."

Laurens flinched at the word, but he did not try and argue. He lingered with Alexander for as long as he could, but it was not long before Alexander's eyes began to droop. It had been a strange night, but not a bad one. If this was what living in the camp was like, then perhaps Alexander would not suffer too much before he escaped. The thought comforted him as he drifted off to sleep listening to the laughter and conversation still flowing outside.

Alexander woke the next morning to find the cabin he was sharing with Laurens empty. There was a pitcher of water by his bedside, so he took the opportunity to bathe as best he could without a tub. He redressed in the same outfit and checked his reflection in the window. He had lost some weight, a change that was exaggerated by his clothes coming from Laurens. Laurens was both taller and broader than Alexander, and the large clothes did him no favours. The dark circles under his eyes were deeper than ever and his hair was greasy, but all in all, Alexander was not too dissatisfied with his appearance. If he did not look respectable, he could at least pass for a charming rogue. 

He found Laurens by Aaron’s side, running through some kind of list. The sight of the two together made his blood run cold. Laurens looked his normal self, but Aaron had dressed in his red jacket and bandana. Despite knowing he was in no danger, Alexander could not stop his heart from stuttering and hammering wildly in his chest. He stood frozen in the middle of the camp and did not find the will to move until the others noticed him. Aaron smiled, and Alexander broke out in a cold sweat. Almost worse was the sight of Laurens beside him, comfortable and clearly at ease.

“I’m going on a supply run. Do you have any requests?”

“Don’t steal anything, and turn yourself in.” 

“I can’t promise that,” Aaron laughed, flashing Alexander a playful grin that made Alexander’s blood boil and his face flush. Something about Aaron’s cavalier attitude to the law ignited a new kind of rage in Alexander. Worst of all, the feeling stole his quick wit and rendered him almost mute. When he did not reply instantly, Laurens assumed he was done and returned to his conversation with Aaron. Now that Alexander was close enough to hear their conversation, he realized Laurens was giving him a list of demands. Most were medicinal, but at the end of his list he hesitated and glanced at Alexander before saying,

“And if you can get your hands on any more of that peanut brittle without Bellamy noticing, I’d appreciate it.”

A frown spread across Aaron’s face, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “That brittle I brought back last month was meant to be for you.”

“And I wanted to share it with Bells,” Laurens replied, not even flinching at Aaron’s stern tone. “You know he’s got a sweet tooth.”

“You don’t need to tell me. I’m the one that grew up with him,” Aaron said. The stern look had vanished at Laurens’ explanation, and a smile had started to creep across his face. “But I’ll see what I can do. It shouldn’t be too hard to get it without him noticing. I’m planning on sending him back as soon as we’ve got the medical supplies.”

As Aaron spoke, Bellamy approached with two horses. A look of confusion spread over Laurens’ face. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Theodosia?”

“She’s asleep. We said goodbye last night,” Aaron said. “Are you...?”

Laurens shook his head. Aaron sighed and took his horse from Bellamy. “Alexander. Walk with me.”

Unnerved, Alexander complied. They walked as far as what Alexander considered the edge of the camp, just beyond the outermost circle of tents.

“Don’t think you can leave just because I’m gone,” Aaron advised. “Even if you made it out of the camp, you’d get lost in the mountains.”

“Why should I listen to you?”

“You’d die out there. And there’s only one person here who would hesitate to shoot you if it came to a fight,” Aaron said levelly. “I’d rather you didn’t put Doctor Laurens in that position.”

“He’d never,” Alexander snapped. Even as he said the words, he realized with a sinking heart that he did not believe them. He could not say what Laurens might do in that situation. He made eye contact with Aaron, and to his surprise he could read the same uncertain sadness in his expression.

“I hope we never find out,” Aaron said. Alexander glared at him. The thought that Laurens might value his new home over Alexander was not a new one, but it was a bitter one, and Alexander resented the reminder. Despite Laurens’ explanation as to how he had ended up here, he had yet to provide a satisfactory answer as to why he had stayed. It left Alexander with all too many opportunities to speculate. Any semblance Alexander had of a good mood vanished. He stormed off, unwilling to let Aaron get another word in. He did not stop until he had slammed the cabin door behind him. 

A few minutes later there came a knock at the door.

“Alexander. You’ll miss breakfast if you stay in there,” Laurens called. Grumbling, Alexander emerged. The blue bandana Laurens wore in place of a tie had been replaced by the deep forest green that Bellamy tended to wear. A frown tugged at the corners of Alexander’s lips. The obvious conclusion was that the two of them had swapped while Alexander spoke with Aaron, but it did not explain why. In truth, Alexander found Laurens’ behaviour around Bellamy baffling. Finding entirely new habits in Laurens was alarming, like looking into a mirror and seeing a stranger stare back. The knowledge that Bellamy would be gone for at least a week was a comforting one.

Alexander mulled this over as he munched his way through another solid breakfast. He ate in silence, too focused on eating to engage in conversation. Once both he and Laurens were fed and caffeinated, Laurens asked,

“Can you entertain yourself for the morning? There are some patients I’ve been ignoring I should get back to, but I’ll find you in the afternoon.”

There was nothing to do but agree, so Alexander found himself wandering the camp with no particular goal in mind. He considered retrieving his books, but for once reading did not appeal. After days kept indoors, he was eager to stretch his legs. 

He started with the outskirts of the camp. The path he had first seen Laurens on led down to the river. From the north, the river tumbled down in a waterfall to form a small lake at the base of a cliff. There was a large marshy area near the cliff, but the water in the center was dark and swift. It cut a path through the reeds and soon became the river proper, flowing away to the south east. From where Alexander stood on the bank, he could see it squeeze between two mountains and form a narrow gorge. It was impossible for Alexander to guess if the gorge was passable, but he suspected not (or at least, not without a boat, a piece of equipment well out of Alexander’s reach). The other side of the river showed no more promise. It looked identical to the side Alexander stood on, right down to the mountains looming behind it. If he were to escape from this direction, he would need help.

Back at the camp itself, he found there was much more than what he had seen. He found a fourth building, a large wooden box that stunk of hay and horse. Alexander made a note of the location, and how few people were around it. There was also a chicken coop, but Alexander found no signs of cattle. Given how heavily the local diet centered on beef, that struck Alexander as odd. The meat could not be all stolen, or else it would have rotted by the time it was brought to the camp. That suggested there must be one or more herds nearby, with ample space and food for the livestock. That, too, Alexander found interesting, and he promised himself he would investigate that more closely in the future. 

The two buildings Alexander had not visited were his next stop. The door to the windowless building opened on the first try, a fact that seemed at odds with its purpose as a storeroom. Inside Alexander found food, cloth, cleaning products, and other sundry people might need. The only item with a lock was a large crate kept below the ammunition. Alexander did not know how to pick locks, but would have bet every cent he had that the crate contained the group’s weaponry. 

The storehouse was also the location of Aaron’s library. It was not a large or extensive library, consisting of only one narrow bookcase jammed with books. The bookcase was by far the cleanest thing Alexander had seen in the camp, kept fastidiously clear of dust and organized according to a specific system. Alexander spent a few minutes exploring, but despite his curiosity he did not linger. The door may have been unlocked, but Alexander did not want to risk getting caught. It would be the height of irony to be shot for theft when he was merely exploring. 

The final building proved to be a dormitory for women with concerns about privacy or manners. Alexander did not get within ten paces of the building before he was warned off so aggressively he resolved never to risk going so close again.

Beyond the dormitory he found the skeleton of a new building being assembled. Several men and women were labouring hard over the new building. It looked to be agonizing work. The builders had to do everything from sawing the lumber to painting the windowsills themselves. It was an interesting sight, but a troubling one. If the people were building, that indicated a certain level of comfort and security Alexander was certain they should not have. Either they were arrogant, or they had good reason to think their position here was unassailable. As much as Alexander hoped it was the former, all evidence pointed to the latter - a fact which did not bode well for him. 

Alexander was thorough enough in his investigations that he was kept occupied until lunchtime. He returned to the middle of the camp to find Laurens waiting for him.

“I was exploring,” he said at Laurens’ expectant look. The smile faded a little.

“You won’t find a way out,” Laurens told him, his voice heavy with guilt. He hesitated a moment before he said, “I know it’s worse for you than it was for me, but just try to take it easy. Think of it as a holiday.”

“I hate holidays,” Alexander said shortly. Laurens sighed and slung an arm around Alexander’s shoulders. After a few moments of stiffness, Alexander put his anger aside and leaned into the gesture. Someone had reheated the remains of breakfast in a campfire, and the few people in the camp for the midday meal gathered around on rough-hewn benches. The meal tasted like ash in Alexander’s mouth. The food itself was fine, but he could not enjoy it when he thought about how even now, Aaron was out plotting crimes.

He passed the afternoon with Laurens, playing games and catching up on yet more news. For most of his adult life, Alexander had seen Laurens close to every day. They had shared everything, and so a whole year of separation left them with enough conversation to last for months or more. If circumstances had been different, Alexander would have called the afternoon enjoyable. The sun was pleasantly warm, he had Laurens by his side, and no one seemed inclined to care that the pair of them wanted to do nothing but sit and talk. But that did not stop the ache from his wounds, nor the itch from where his bandages chafed against his skin. The pain from his wounds would linger for weeks, and there was no escape. No matter how Alexander begged, wheedled or threatened, Laurens would not allow him morphine now he was on his feet. 

“The last thing I want is you getting the soldier’s disease,” Laurens told him. Each time, Alexander would shudder and agree. He had missed the war, but he had seen the wounded veterans roaming the streets with a little leather pouch around their neck. They had been given morphine for the pain of their original wound, only to find themselves unable to kick the habit. Most doctors did not care, but Laurens did. He prescribed it for serious pain, but tended to prefer to use laudanum, alcohol, or a strange bitter tea to dull lesser aches. It was a most peculiar stance, and one Alexander could not begin to understand. He had asked Laurens, but all he had got in response was a miserable expression and a vague comment about the war. Alexander thought the whole thing ludicrous, but he was inclined to trust Laurens’ opinion. He may not be a genius, but Laurens was no idiot. Something had motivated his beliefs, and that thought was enough to give Alexander pause. It was the same thought process that kept him compliant with his captivity - or at least, compliant by Alexander’s standards. He complained bitterly, but he had not attacked nor insulted anyone in the camp. It was the best behaviour anyone could hope for.

By the time the evening came, Laurens had given Alexander enough bitter tea to bring on dreadful stomach cramps - but Alexander did not particularly care, because he had also given him an ample amount of whiskey. Food was the last thing on his mind, but he forced himself to eat a small supper before retiring early to bed. 

The next morning, Alexander did not make it half way through breakfast before Laurens introduced him properly to the tailor Alexander had seen drinking heavily at each meal. To Alexander’s surprise, Hercules proved just as loud and boisterous sober as he was in the evening. He and Alexander hit it off immediately. Laurens had introduced them so Hercules could take Alexander’s measurements, but that did not stop them from gossiping the entire day. 

“I don’t see the point in this,” Alexander admitted, although he made no attempts to stop the measurements. “It’s not like you’re going to make me a free set of clothes, right?”

“You can’t live in Laurens’ hand-me-downs forever,” Hercules pointed out. “Once Aaron gets back with what I need, I’ll be able to get to work.”

“These are Laurens’ clothes?” Alexander asked. He was not sure why he was surprised: they were too big for Alexander himself, and all the colours matched Laurens’ preferred style. He tugged a little at the blue scrap of cloth around his neck. The longer he stayed, the more he realized his presence must be inconveniencing his friend significantly. He did not doubt his welcome (Laurens was too free and open in his affection for that), but Alexander still found himself considering the situation in a new light. 

Once the measurements were taken, the two spent three full hours debating fashion. Hercules listened to Alexander’s thoughts, but insisted he was limited by time, resources and practicality. The height of fashion from New York was impractical out here in the wilderness. Alexander had always dressed as lavishly as he could afford, but now he would be stuck with the same simple clothing as everyone around him.

“Look on the bright side: Aaron got your favourite colours off Laurens, and I can incorporate some of your ideas. It won’t be as dreadful as you’re thinking.”

“He what?” Alexander asked sharply. Hercules laughed.

“Still not a fan of our Aaron, then?”

“You do remember he shot me, right?” Alexander said. “Not to mention I’m not exactly free to leave.”

“That won’t last forever,” Hercules said confidently. “We can’t detain you forever, and we couldn’t kill you even if we wanted to. Laurens would pitch a fit, and then who would stitch us up after he lost his temper?”

“Is that meant to be comforting?”

Hercules shrugged and took another sip of his coffee. Despite the careless approach to Alexander’s life, he did find the words oddly comforting. Hercules may be an outlaw, but he was loud and unashamed in his opinions. If he wanted Alexander alive, then that was at least two people who might protest if Aaron got it into his head to murder Alexander.

When Alexander was silent for too long, Hercules said, “I’m not going to tell you what to think, but have you asked yourself why we’re out here?”

The obvious answer - that they were hiding from the law - was so obvious Alexander did not bother to state it aloud. Even if he had, it was not an actual answer to Hercules’ question. As far as Alexander knew, every last person in Aaron’s group had better prospects somewhere else. Theodosia had a husband, and Hercules his craft. Laurens had never given him a satisfactory answer as to why he had stayed, but he had family and steady employment. Then there was Aaron himself. By Alexander’s reckoning, he must have turned outlaw at the age of seventeen, one year before coming into his inheritance. As much as Alexander disliked Aaron, he knew Aaron was no idiot. Something must have happened to push him in this direction.

At Alexander’s pensive look and extended silence, Hercules looked smug. “I thought not. Funny. I thought Laurens said you were meant to be smart.”

“I am smart,” Alexander snapped, and then added curiously, “Laurens said that?”

“He’s said a lot about you,” Hercules told him. Alexander glanced towards the medical building. He could see Laurens through the open doorway, tidying the place up and making it look as welcoming as possible. Even across the camp, Alexander could hear him humming a tune as he worked. A smile spread across Alexander’s face. It was an old habit Laurens had, one that he only slipped into when he felt truly relaxed. It was a sound Alexander had heard often in their small apartment, but never when Laurens had been at work. 

It was not long after that Laurens finished up his work and came to find Alexander. Again, the two of them spent the afternoon drinking and playing games. The third day passed in much the same way, and by the fourth day it was a habit. Wherever Hercules was, Alexander would end up not far away. Some days, he was sewing; other days, he worked on the cabin that was still under construction. He and Alexander did not always see eye to eye, but Alexander had always relished a good debate, and Hercules had a perspective unlike anyone Alexander had yet met. 

On the fourth day, Alexander asked, “You told me I should ask why you’re out here. So why are you here? I’ve seen your work. You could get a job in any city you wanted.”

“That’s a very personal question,” Hercules warned him. When Alexander did not retract his question, he set his work aside with a sigh. “I’m a wanted man. I never broke the law, but I made enemies. I spoke out about the wrong things and stood up for the wrong people.”

“So you ran?” Alexander asked. His voice rose in pitch, disbelief dropping from every syllable. The idea of running from a fight galled him. Given his respect for Hercules, he had assumed the older man would be the same. But he was forced to reconsider when Hercules let out a bitter laugh.

“He’s a senator. That’s not a fight I could win, not without help. Sometimes all you can do is bide your time and wait.”

“I was never very good at waiting,” Alexander said. Hercules gave a snort of laughter.

“I’d noticed.”

“Seriously. I can’t imagine sitting around here and sucking up to Burr when you’ve got a choice.”

That startled a laugh from Hercules. “There’s no ‘sucking up’ involved. We get into an argument at least once a fortnight. He talks sense when you can drag an opinion from him, but it’s like drawing blood from a stone sometimes. Man needs a spine.”

Alexander raised an eyebrow. Hercules grinned at him and added, “Try it when he gets back. It’ll do both of you the world of good.”

As much as Alexander doubted that, he decided to keep his doubts to himself - not out of any desire for secrecy, but because his mind was whirling with dozens of half-formed ideas he could make no sense of. It was rare for something to confuse Alexander consistently, but Aaron Burr managed it. Before he could act, he needed information. Men like Laurens and Hercules should have seen the worst of Aaron’s behaviour, but they were adamant he was a good man. Theodosia should have been terrified him, but Alexander had seen for himself how she adored him. He could not even claim she had no motivation: Aaron melted around her, acting as sweet as honey. All this contradictory information swirled in Alexander’s mind. One thing was clear: if he was to escape, he needed to understand his situation. And the first step to that was understanding Aaron Burr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented or left kudos! Y'all are what keep me writing and sharing my work.


	6. Love

With Aaron safely away, Alexander was surprised to find life in the camp almost pleasant. He missed the luxuries of city life. He missed even more his role with Washington and the challenges and praise it brought. But even so, there were things he found he liked about his current situation. Hercules’ companionship was very agreeable, and there was something to be said for having peace and quiet. It gave him plenty of time to reflect and think. And even now, Alexander felt a rush of glee whenever he remembered he had Laurens back. That alone was nearly enough to make up for his intolerable situation. The death of his dearest friend had wounded Alexander more than he had ever been able to admit, and the reversal had left him just as elated. Not even his bitterness at their separation could overwhelm his joy. Laurens seemed similarly delighted, but he had picked up new behaviours that confused and alarmed Alexander. One such change was that he had gone on to develop strong friendships with a number of women, something Alexander had never known him to do. 

Chief among these was his peculiar friendship with Theodosia. Their preferences and opinions differed on almost every topic, but there could be no doubt they were good friends. She teased him relentlessly, and he teased back. Her comments were so dry and subtle that at first Alexander took them for insults, but there was no question that Theodosia liked him well enough. She made it more than plain when she disliked someone, as she did to Alexander on a daily basis. The ice in her voice when she greeted Alexander was enough to make his blood run cold. Much to Alexander’s dismay, Laurens found this hilarious.

“And you always said I was bad with women,” he teased, after one particularly vicious conversation had left Alexander at a loss for words. It had been a brief conversation that had lasted less than five minutes, as Theodosia stopped by to ask Laurens to babysit for an hour or two. Laurens had agreed amicably. It might have ended there, if Alexander had not wondered aloud why she needed a babysitter when there was nowhere to go. Laurens had snickered all through the resulting diatribe. Worst of all, when all was said and done, Alexander could not say with certainty that he had been in the right. 

Alexander gave Laurens a sideways look. Entirely unrepentant, Laurens grinned back at him, bouncing the child on his lap.

“That’s different. You’re bad when it comes to flirting with women. You couldn’t get a date if your life depended on it.”

“That’s a rude observation,” Laurens said, but he didn’t deny it.

“I’m not trying to flirt with Theodosia. All I want is civility.”

“In her defense, you did threaten to kidnap her,” Laurens pointed out. The words were delivered all too casually for Alexander’s liking, and he gaped at Laurens.

“I did not!”

“That’s not the way she tells it. Didn’t you say something about getting her out of here when you first met?”

Alexander stared at him in horror as he finally joined the dots. “Because I thought she was a hostage! Jesus Christ, you didn’t hear about the way her husband talked about her - and the child!. I thought something awful was happening.”

“Well, maybe you should tell her that,” Laurens said. He grinned at the girl in his lap and said to Alexander, “By child, I take it you mean this little princess?”

The girl cooed at the attention, reaching one chubby little arm up to pat Laurens on the cheek. “Aurens.”

“That’s right!” he beamed, and then explained to Alexander, “She’s still struggling with ‘L’. Have you met Theo yet? Theo, do you know who that is?”

The girl - Theo - looked at Alexander as Laurens pointed and attempted the word “loud”.

Laurens fell apart laughing, and the few people around them snickered. Instead of growing angry, Alexander told Theo his name, then repeated it slowly for her. Theo tried to imitate him but failed miserably. ‘Alexander’ was simply too many complicated syllables for her, each following too quickly after the other. After a few tries, she crossed her arms and declared, “No!” with great authority.

“Don’t take it personally,” Laurens advised, although he looked entirely too amused by the situation for Alexander’s liking. “She’s still too young for most words, and she can’t manage most of the names here. It’s only last month she got beyond Mommy and Daddy.”

“Is that normal?” Alexander asked curiously. He had little interest in children, and even less in children too young to talk, but he was fascinated by how much Laurens seemed to care for the girl. Anyone watching him dote on her would have thought she was his own flesh and blood. As a result, though Alexander retained a general apathy towards children, he took a particular interest in this child. Despite her circumstances, she was bright-eyed and curious. Even when confronted with something new (such as himself) she seemed fearless, and she clearly adored Laurens. 

It was early evening by the time Theodosia came to retrieve her daughter. Once she turned away, Laurens gave Alexander a none-to-subtle kick in the shin and gestured in her direction. Alexander sighed. Apologies were not his forte (in part because of how fervently he tried to avoid them), but he had little choice. He followed the Theodosias a little way to give them some privacy before clearing his throat to announce his presence. Theodosia’s eyes narrowed when she turned.

“Can I help you?”

“Laurens tells me I owe you an apology,” Alexander said. The words came out in a rush, but Alexander still felt the uncomfortable weight of each one. “When I said I’d get you out of here, I thought you wanted out.”

“You’d never even spoken to me before,” Theodosia pointed out. Alexander winced, knowing his next words would not be taken well.

“I spoke to your husband in Burridge. He said you were kidnapped.”

“That’s what you get for listening to that fool,” Theodosia said. For the first time, there was no anger or bitterness in her tone - though from the subtle spark of amusement in her eyes, Alexander suspected he was being laughed at. “I had my bags packed and waiting for Aaron when he came to visit. I’d been planning for six months. If Aaron hadn’t been willing to help me, I would have found someone else.”

“I didn’t know,” Alexander said, as though that were not already obvious. Theodosia did not quite smile, but the hard line of her mouth softened.

“You made your decision based on bad information. Be more cautious next time. And your life will be a lot easier if you stop assuming you know what women want.”

“Then what do I need to do to earn your forgiveness?”

Theodosia looked at him, considering. Alexander resisted the urge to squirm, feeling almost naked under her gaze as she weighed and judged him.

“If you’d stop trying to hurt my partner, that would be a start.”

As ludicrous as the situation was, it took Alexander less than a second to make the connection. “You mean Burr?”

Theodosia nodded. An awkward silence spread out between them as Alexander considered how much he was willing to concede. He would not lie, but he knew Theodosia was unlikely to accept his gut response. After a few moments, he said,

“I promise not to kill him, unless he is an immediate threat to someone’s life.”

“Dragging him to the courthouse would kill him as well as a bullet, as I’m sure you know.”

Again, Alexander hesitated. The conclusion he had reached surprised him, and for once he stopped and considered his words before he spoke. “There are things here I don’t understand. I can’t make any promises, but I won’t act without all the facts, and I won’t lie about my intentions.”

For the first time, Theodosia smiled at him. It was not a bright smile, or a particularly obvious one, but the subtle upwards curve of her lips could not be denied. “Laurens said something similar the first time I asked his opinion of Aaron. There might be hope for you yet. You should go back to your friend, Mr Hamilton. He’s a good influence on you.”

It was a clear dismissal, and Alexander did not intend to misunderstand. He dipped his hat and slipped away back to Laurens’ side. Laurens was delighted when he heard how the conversation had gone, so much so that he proposed a toast to Alexander’s health. The first toast was followed by a second, and the drink quickly went to Alexander’s head. He fell asleep with his head on Laurens’ shoulder, and did not wake until the next morning. 

When Alexander did wake, he had several seconds of complete disorientation. He stared at the open sky above him and battled his foggy memory, trying to figure out why he had not gone to bed. It had not been a good decision. His head pounded, his wounds throbbed with pain, and every muscle in his body ached from his night on the ground. He pulled himself upright with a groan. Most of the camp was still asleep, either tucked away in tents or scattered around the fire like Alexander. The notable exception was Laurens, who was nowhere to be seen. Alexander grumbled under his breath as he made his way up to the medical centre that had become his home. To his surprise, Laurens was not there either. With no one to fetch fresh water for him, Alexander’s plans of washing his face were stymied. With nothing else to do, he picked up one of the books Aaron had loaned to him and began to read. He had made his way through the philosophy text in a day. Shakespeare’s plays were thankfully taking a little longer, but Alexander dreaded the day when he was forced to resort to the anatomy book.

He made it halfway through Macbeth before Laurens appeared in a fresh set of clothes with dripping wet hair. The only thing he had not changed was the scrap of green around his neck. He had not taken it off for even an instant since Aaron and Bellamy had left. Occasionally, when he seemed to think Alexander was not looking, he would reach up and touch the fabric. It puzzled Alexander to no end. He thought about asking about it, but d there were more pressing issues to discuss. 

“You shouldn’t have let me fall asleep outside,” Alexander complained by way of greeting. Laurens stared at him for a moment before he began to laugh.

“I tried to get you to bed, but you refused. Said you’d fill in my reports for a month if I let you stay.”

“That’s ridiculous. We can’t report to Washington, we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Alexander said, which only made Laurens laugh harder. Alexander huffed. It was not often he drank so much he lost his memory, but when he did, he was always astounded by how foolish he became when intoxicated. It did not help that his friends found it as entertaining as he did embarrassing. But despite the amused smirk on his face, Laurens seemed too preoccupied to tease. Alexandder watched Laurens pull out his shaving kit and set up in front of a small mirror. He hummed as he shaved, and there was a small smile that he could not seem to get rid of.

“Any particular reason you’re in such a good mood?” Alexander asked. Laurens dodged the question, which only intensified Alexander’s curiosity. He kept asking, but no matter how hard he pushed, he could not get a straight answer out of him. Laurens would not even admit to being in a good mood, claiming Alexander was instead the grumpy one. It was true that Alexander loathed being sick, and loathed hangovers even more (as he had no one to blame for them but himself), but it was not the whole truth. There was a new spring in Laurens’ step that had not been there the previous day. His peculiar behaviour continued all day. Laurens’ mood was upbeat, but he started at any noise and seemed easily distracted. By late afternoon, his mood started to droop. 

At dusk Laurens perked up at the sound of hoof-beats approaching the camp. The same sound filled Alexander’s heart with dread, but no one else took any notice of it as they settled around a fire to talk and cook. Two horses entered the camp, one laden with baggage and the other carrying Bellamy. Aaron was nowhere in sight. Bellamy dismounted a few paces from Alexander and strode forward, completely ignoring Alexander and the various shouts of welcome from people around the camp. The only person he acknowledged was Laurens, who he greeted with a passionate kiss. Less than a fraction of a second passed before Laurens responded, wrapping his arms around Bellamy and pressing their bodies close together. Alexander gaped at them. His shock turned to panic a moment later when he heard a whistle from the fireplace. Neither Laurens nor Bellamy responded, but the sound was enough to turn Alexander's blood to ice. He was not the only one who had seen the kiss. Instinct took over as Alexander dashed to Bellamy’s horse. A rifle was strapped to the saddle, and a flood of relief rushed through Alexander when he found ammunition and powder beside it. It was a matter of seconds before he had the rifle loaded and ready to fire. He had seen what the law did to men like Laurens; he shuddered to think what would happen to him out here. 

It was not until Alexander turned around he realized a hush had fallen over the camp. Laurens shoved Bellamy behind him and stared at Alexander with the most mournful expression Alexander had ever seen. His entire face was crumpled in grief and betrayal, and Alexander could see tears in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice broke and cracked around the words.

“Is that what you really think of me?”

Baffled and outraged, Alexander took an angry step towards him. Several people by the fireside moved for their weapons, but Laurens did not budge an inch.

“You know I don’t give a damn about that,” Alexander snapped. “But in case you didn’t notice, you’ve got an audience. We’ve got to get you two out of here.”

Silence stretched out for what seemed like an age. The awful agony in Laurens’ expression eased and he took a tentative step towards Alexander. When no one moved, he took a second. There were not even a dozen paces between the two, but it seemed to take hours for Laurens to cross the distance between them. When he reached Alexander, he slowly put his hands on the rifle. Alexander stood frozen in place. This close, he could see the tear tracks on Laurens’ face, along with a tiny, weak little smile. With a gentle tug, he pulled the rifle from Alexander’s hands. Alexander yielded the weapon without protest, but he felt a spike of panic when he saw Laurens toss it on the ground behind him. Before Alexander could protest, Laurens pulled him into a hug. Alexander found himself crushed against Laurens’ chest, Lauren’s face tucking into his neck and his arms holding him tight. Tentatively at first, he returned the hug, then gave it his all. It was uncomfortable at best, putting pressure against the wound on his chest and making it hard to breathe, but Alexander put that aside. If Laurens did not think it was worth running, then Alexander would stay by his side until the end. He may die, but he could at least say he had tried to defend his friend. But the end did not come, and after several seconds Laurens pulled back with a laugh. There were tears streaming openly down his face now, but his smile was bright.

“Alexander, it’s okay. I told you, we ignore a lot of the laws out here, Bells and I aren’t even the only ones. Everyone here already knows. We’re safe.”

“They know?” Alexander asked in disbelief. At Laurens’ nod, he risked a look over at the campfire. Hercules had settled back down and resumed drinking as if nothing had happened. One or two others started to follow his lead. One woman did stay standing and on alert, but her mistrustful gaze was aimed at Alexander, not at Laurens or Bellamy. Once realization dawned, Alexander gave a shout of excitement. He pulled Laurens into another hug, thumping him on the back with enthusiasm with his good arm. The last of his suspicions about Laurens’ motivations for remaining out here vanished. Though Alexander resented how Laurens had arranged the matter, he found he could not fault his friend for wanting to stay somewhere he was safe. For now, he was far too excited to be bitter.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how you’d react,” Laurens admitted. “And I had to hide for so long - I wouldn’t even let Bellamy tell anyone at first.”

“But I knew,” Alexander protested. He hated how whiny his voice got when he felt defensive, but he could not stop it happening now. “We lived together all those years, and I never said anything.”

“Exactly. You never said anything,” Laurens said quietly. “I didn’t know if you were ignoring it or biding your time or if you just hadn’t noticed. The number of times I almost got caught - some guys would rat you out after they’d had you, sometimes after a dozen times. I couldn’t trust anyone.”

“You could have trusted me,” Alexander snapped. Laurens’ words had filled him with a bitter anger, but there was no one around to aim it at. The men Laurens had been afraid of were thousands of miles away, and Alexander could not make them pay. Laurens was safe here, safer than he had ever been in the city. When Bellamy approached to check on them, Alexander’s temper turned on him as the closest available target. He glared up at him and told him,

“You were reckless. You owe Laurens an apology.”

“That’s precisely what I was coming to do,” Bellamy said, unfazed by Alexander’s rage. He took Laurens hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing the back of his fingers. Laurens flushed at the gesture, and Alexander felt abruptly as if the wind had been taken from his sails. There were things to discuss here, old wounds that had never healed, but now was not the time. He would not ruin this moment for Laurens. Exhaustion hit him with the force of an oncoming train. He staggered over to the fire, leaving Bellamy and Laurens to have their reunion. He took a seat next to Hercules, who immediately passed him a beer.

“For two people who talk a lot, you and Laurens seem to avoid talking about what matters.”

“Don’t lecture me,” Alexander said. “I’m still sober.”

He finished his beer in record time. It did nothing to ease the ache in his wounds, but it did exacerbate his exhaustion. He caught himself as his head started to nod. As tempting as it was to stay out long enough to get something to eat, he still felt the ache from sleeping on the ground the previous night. He bid everyone around the fire goodnight and retreated to his bed. He woke several times through the night to thumps and groans coming from the next room; but, given how often he had forced Laurens to endure the same, Alexander did not think he had the right to complain. 

Alexander and Laurens spent the next morning cataloguing and storing the supplies Bellamy had brought. To Alexander's relief, the scheme Laurens used to organize the medical supplies was different to the one used by the rest of the camp. It echoed the system they had used under Washington, one designed by Alexander. It was at once simpler and more efficient than any standard methods. It was, in Alexander's opinion, both a stroke of genius and utterly fundamental to good accounting. If they could not even keep track of what they owned, they could not hope to be financially secure. 

It did not surprise Alexander in the slightest when Bellamy joined them, and he greeted him much more warmly than he might have a week ago. In truth, Alexander was not sure what to make of Bellamy. On the one hand, he was an outlaw and a close friend of Aaron. Any friend of Aaron was a dangerous enemy and one Alexander should loathe without hesitation. But Laurens loved him. That alone would have been enough to make Alexander reconsider his position. Once he saw how happy Bellamy made his friend, Alexander knew he would never be able to hate him. Laurens was his brother in all but blood, and that made Bellamy family. 

“I can’t believe how well you’re taking it,” Laurens admitted when they stopped for lunch. It was the first time he had said it, but the sentiment had been clear all morning. In Alexander’s opinion, it was the one downside to the whole affair. Laurens walked on eggshells around him as if waiting for some dreadful outburst of rage. He did not greet Alexander with his usual hug. He stopped himself each time he reached for Alexander at all, no matter how familiar or customary the contact. It left a hole in Alexander’s life. This shy, uncertain Laurens was not the brother Alexander knew and loved. Under ordinary circumstances, Alexander would have shared his complaints with Laurens immediately - but these were not ordinary circumstances. With Laurens so flighty, Alexander was at a loss as what to do. He wanted to act, but he did not have the faintest idea what action to take. As such, Alexander spent three whole days fuming and sulking until his temper finally snapped. It was good news that did it: Alexander’s wounds had finally healed enough that Laurens felt he could properly bathe in the river.

“It’s about time,” Alexander said. “Do you have any idea how annoying it is to be stuck with a bucket and rag?”

“You’ll have to be careful,” Laurens cautioned. “You still don’t have all your strength back, and the river is deep. Take Hercules to keep an eye on you.”

“Why not you?” Alexander asked. Laurens jumped at the suggestion and stared at Alexander as if he had said something incomprehensible.

“You’d be comfortable with that?”

“Why -” Alexander started to ask, before he realized the source of the Laurens’ concerns. “This is about you and men, isn’t it?”

“Most men wouldn’t be comfortable bathing around me,” Laurens said. He avoided Alexander’s eye, instead focusing on tidying up his medical supplies. 

“Most men are idiots,” Alexander countered. “Including you. This is why you’ve stopped touching me, isn’t it? What do you think is going to happen?”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Laurens said quietly.

“Well, you fucked that up spectacularly. You’ve been driving me mad with how you’ve been acting. Seriously Laurens, why would I be uncomfortable?”

For a few moments, Laurens just stared at Alexander, eyes wide and mouth agape. Alexander tapped his foot impatiently and crossed his arms over his chest. When that did not prompt a response, he raised his eyebrows and gestured at Laurens. When Laurens spoke, the words came out agonizingly slowly.

“I didn’t want you to think I was trying to seduce you, or - “

Before Laurens could get any further, Alexander burst out laughing. “Laurens, if that’s what seduction looks like to you, you’re even worse with men than you are with women. We’ve known each other for years. I haven’t fallen into bed with you yet, and I’m not planning on it.”

“Well. Good. I don’t want that either,” Laurens said, the words awkward and stilted. He rubbed his temples, staring intently at nothing. “This is not how I expected this conversation to go.”

“I can’t believe we had to have this conversation,” Alexander countered. “You’re my friend.” A thought occurred to him, and his mood soured. “You know that. You could have trusted me, Laurens. If not enough to tell me about Bellamy, than at least enough to let me know you were alive.”

Laurens winced. “I didn’t think -”

“I know you didn’t think,” Alexander snapped. He may have been laughing just moments ago, but now he felt anger rippling under his skin. Belatedly, he realized it had been there all along. He had managed to smother it beneath his genuine happiness for Laurens, but now it made itself known. “You don’t know what it was like. Every time I went back to our apartment I’d remember you were gone. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep.”

“But you had Washington,” Laurens protested, eyes wide. “And Lafayette, and -”

“So what? You’re the closest friend I’ve ever had. Losing you was like losing a part of me. I wrote you so many letters, even though I knew you’d never see them. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them until I went to your grave.”

Laurens stared at him in open horror. His mouth hung open slightly and his forehead creased. When he found his voice, it was small and broken. “I didn’t know.”

“You should have known,” Alexander grumbled. 

“I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted - fuck, I never wanted to hurt you. There’s nothing I can do to make up for this, is there?”

Alexander took a moment to consider the idea. In truth there was nothing anyone could do to undo the hurt. Even now he knew Laurens was fine, the scar of the original wound lingered on his heart. But as much as Alexander was prone to holding grudges, he found he did not want to do so here. He had Laurens back alive, whole and unhurt. He was not going to squander that opportunity. As he reached his conclusions, he stepped forward and pulled Laurens into a tight hug. Laurens returned the embrace tentatively, as if expecting to be thrown off at any moment.

“I don’t forgive you,” Alexander said, hugging him tightly. “If you ever try something like this again, I’ll kill you myself.”

“I won’t,” Laurens promised him. “No more secrets, Alexander. I promise.”

The words should not have soothed Alexander’s anger, but he felt his rage wane at the words. He could live with this. Things would never go back to the way they were, but Laurens was and would remain his dearest friend. Whatever else happened going forward, Alexander could count on that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels overdramatic and forced but I can't bear to edit it any longer. Either way, I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading, and thank you especially to everyone who has left comments.


	7. Exchange

Unlike Bellamy’s dramatic return to camp, Aaron slipped back unnoticed. He must have arrived in the dead of night, because Alexander did not see him arrive. The first he saw of him was at breakfast, where Aaron was greeted with great enthusiasm by all but Alexander. Alexander bit back the insults on the tip of his tongue, but he did not even try to hide the hatred in his face. Aaron greeted him with a nod, but he seemed in no rush to talk to him. Even if he had been, he would have been obliged for wait: everyone had a hundred questions for him, and all of them tried to ask at once. The chief desire in everyone’s hearts was news. It took three full hours for Aaron to provide that in adequate detail for his friends. Real news was supplemented with clippings from various newspapers, but he also had a great deal to say on gossip and the activities of various friends and acquaintances. 

The group split up mid-morning. Alexander intended to follow Laurens and Bellamy, but he did not get more than three steps before Aaron called his name. Alexander was not the only one who paused, but Laurens did not seem concerned. He squeezed Alexander’s shoulder and said,

“You know where to find me after. Try not to start another argument.”

Alexander gave a snort of laughter. “We both know I’m going to.”

Laurens laughed. He moved in for a hug, hesitating only for a second before committing. The gesture weighed on Alexander’s mind when he turned back to face Aaron. Laurens' hesitation was deep-seated and troubling, but he was learning to relax. Part of that was where they were. There was something about this place Alexander did not understand, something that had made this a safe place for Laurens. If Alexander was to have any hope of understanding this place, he needed to understand the people. Most of all, he needed to understand Aaron. 

“Before we talk about anything else,” Aaron said, “I want you to know I heard about what happened with Bellamy and Laurens.”

Whatever scraps of self-restraint Alexander had been holding on to flew out the window as fear settled into his body. “If you’re looking for an apology, you’re not going to get one. I did what was right.”

“You misunderstand me,” Aaron said with an easy smile. He seemed entirely relaxed, as if Alexander’s anger were no more threatening than a passing rain cloud. The observation did nothing to ease Alexander’s temper. Without giving Aaron a chance to explain himself, Alexander asked,

“Then what did you mean?”

“I don’t disagree that you did the right thing. I’d have done the same thing in your position. But I would appreciate it if you would refrain from arming yourself in the future. I'd hate for there to be some kind of misunderstanding.”

“That’s a very polite threat,” Alexander observed. The words startled a laugh from Aaron.

“I prefer to think of it as a warning. The people here are my family. Not just my daughter and Theodosia, but the others, too. You know what it’s like to hunt someone for revenge. Don’t think I would do anything less for the people here than you did for Laurens.”

“I was trying to protect Laurens,” Alexander protested hotly. A wry smile spread across Aaron’s face.

“I’m aware. That’s why I’m keeping things polite.”

Alexander huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Before he could say anything else, Aaron reached into his pockets and pulled out a newspaper clipping. He unfolded it, the movements slow and deliberate.

“I also wanted to let you know that you shouldn’t count on a rescue. I’m afraid you’re presumed dead.”

When he held out the newspaper fragment, Alexander snatched it from his hands. A photograph of the Burridge main street took up the front page of the Michel’s Creek Times. 

**_TEXAS RED ON 24 MURDERS_ **

_Visiting law enforcer Alexander Hamilton is presumed dead after shootout with infamous rogue Texas Red. Hamilton, 23, was taken hostage by Texas Red when a joint operation with the Burridge Sheriff's Department went wrong. The outlaw outwitted the law, escaping the Sheriff's ambush and taking Hamilton hostage to secure his escape. Neither Texas Red nor Hamilton have been seen since the incident. Sheriff Prevost called off the search for Hamilton after three days, citing his low odds of survival. The previous contractor to challenge Texas Red, Doctor John Laurens, was found brutally murdered after six months. Hamilton reportedly sought to avenge Dr. Laurens death._

_Although no body has been found, Hamilton's employer, former general George Washington, has commissioned a memorial stone to be raised beside the grave of Dr. Laurens. Hamilton has no surviving family, and left his worldly possessions to his employer. We at the Times offer our condolences to his friends and colleagues._

Alexander stared at the page in horror. There was more bad news on that single page than he would have thought possible to fit into an entire paper. The thought of Washington was too painful to process. Rather than deal with it, Alexander latched on to the most trivial complaint he could think of.

“I can’t believe they’re treating me as just another one of your victims.”

The topic may be petty, but Alexander’s irritation was real. The article had said nothing of his achievements or his talents. As far as the people here were concerned, Alexander’s legacy was to be just another notch on Aaron’s pistol. Aaron himself looked startled at the complaint, his eyes widening a little in surprise.

“You weren’t around long enough for them to know any better. And I’m afraid they’re set on sensationalizing everything I do. If that’s your biggest complaint with the article, you’re taking the news better than I had expected.”

“The entire article is pathetic,” Alexander snapped. He stared at the headline for a few more seconds before folding the paper up and tucking it into his pocket. “Why did you even show it to me?”

“It relates to you. I thought you’d be curious,” Aaron said with a small shrug. “And I thought you should know why you’re getting all new things. I would have preferred to steal your belongings for you, but by the time I made it to Michel’s Creek, the train had already left.”

“I don’t need anything,” Alexander protested. “I told you, I don’t want you stealing for me.”

“If it’s any comfort, I did pay for everything I brought back with me. I won’t deny I break the law, but I do have my own code. I’m not amoral.”

“I’m still not going to thank you for it.”

“I’m not naive enough to think you would,” Aaron said. There was a dry hum of amusement in his tone, and Alexander was vexed at the idea his ire was predictable enough to be entertaining rather than an inconvenience. “I need to unpack, but I’ll find you after lunch. I still have some questions I’d like you to answer, and I’m willing to give you information in return.”

Once Aaron had turned his back, Alexander immediately retreated to the hospital. With no patients left in the camp, Laurens had joined the communal building efforts, leaving the shack Alexander had woken up in blissfully empty. It was the closest to privacy Alexander could get. He sat himself at Laurens desk and pulled the newspaper fragment out of his pocket. He read it three times over. There was no more meaning he could squeeze out of the words, but that did not stop him from trying. The alternative was thinking, and that was too painful for the moment. When he did not focus on the words, he could imagine all too clearly how Washington would handle the news. He could see Washington’s stricken expression whenever he closed his eyes. They had fought when Alexander left. That would make it bad enough, but there were half a dozen half-written apologies in Alexander’s belongings that he had never got to send. Washington would read every one of them. The tangle of emotions in Alexander’s chest was vicious and ugly, and he could not name even half of the unruly mess of feelings. The prospect of Washington reading his apologies was humiliating, but the shame was overpowered by the knowledge of the grief it would bring. There were others who would mourn Alexander’s loss, but Washington had been the one to treat him like family.

Under ordinary circumstances, Alexander would have channeled his emotions into his writing. But he had neither pen nor paper, nor any avenue to publish. Without any other way to vent his emotions, Alexander was alarmed to find tears stinging in the corners of his eyes. He tried to push them away, but instead he found his efforts broke the levee holding them back. Tears started to stream down his face. The more Alexander tried to stop, the more tears came. He had not shed a tear or spared even a moment of thought for his situation until he had seen the paper. It was only now, with evidence of his desperate situation before him, that Alexander realized how dire his situation was. There was no one outside this camp who knew he was alive. He did not believe Laurens would allow him to come to harm, but by the same token, Alexander found himself unwilling to harm the others for fear of what it would cost Laurens. He was outnumbered, unarmed, and lost. The odds of Alexander seeing Washington again seemed vanishingly small. 

A full hour passed before Alexander heard a knock on the door. When he didn’t answer, Laurens opened the door a crack and stuck his head in.

“Alexander, is everything alright? Bells said he saw you sneak in here a while ago. I thought I should give you some privacy, but it's been a while.”

“I’m fine,” Alexander said, but his voice cracked as he spoke. Laurens stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Without a word, he walked over to Alexander’s chair and hugged him from behind. Another swell of emotion raised in Alexander’s chest, this one threatening to be even greater than the last before it abruptly calmed. Exhausted, Alexander leaned back in his chair.

“Washington thinks I’m dead.”

“He won’t take that well,” Laurens said. Alexander snorted. That was understating it. Along with his friend Lafayette, Alexander had always been Washington’s favourite. In lieu of explaining the situation, Alexander passed Laurens the paper. After reading it, Laurens squeezed Alexander’s shoulder.

“Listen. None of us like what we’re doing to you. Sooner or later, you’ll get to go home. I promise.”

“What about you?”

The words were out of Alexander’s mouth before he could stop himself. It was a question he was not sure he wanted the answer to. He could not see Laurens’ face, but he felt his posture stiffen and then deliberately relax, muscle by muscle.

“I’ll write. And you can visit Bells and I as often as you like, wherever we end up.”

The words brought a smile to Alexander’s face even as a peculiar ache settled in his chest. It was the answer he should have expected. It was not the answer he had wanted to hear, but Laurens’ promise to keep in contact did a great deal to lessen the pain of the blow.

“I’m glad you found someone. You deserve to have someone like him.”

“I never thought I could,” Laurens said. There was a note of wonder in his voice that broke Alexander’s heart. “He’s so - I didn’t know it was possible to feel this way about someone. I can’t look at him without smiling.”

“That’s the one silver lining to this situation. I thought you were dead, but look at you. You’re as happy as I’ve ever seen you.”

“I am happy,” Laurens admitted. “I know it’s selfish, but I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you got to meet Bellamy. The circumstances could be better, but past few days have been the happiest of my life.”

“Then I should be making the best of it,” Alexander said. His tone was firm, as if by making the words into an order he could trick himself into obeying. As Laurens had said, the circumstances could be better - but they could also have been a lot worse. Alexander had no choice but to make do with what he had. The thought was not enough to make him cheerful, but it did help shift the crushing despair into a hollow sense of numbness. After the depth of his earlier misery, the emptiness felt almost pleasant.

He was obliged to borrow Laurens’ handkerchief to tidy himself up, his own a sodden mess of tears and snot, but both decided not to mention it. It was not hard for Alexander to make himself presentable. The reminder of Laurens’ happiness had lifted his spirits considerably. It also added another target for Alexander to aim for. For the moment, there was nothing Alexander could do to improve his situation other than learn all he could about the camp and his occupants; but he could do things for Laurens. He would do whatever it took to ensure his plan did not destroy his friend's home.

By the time Alexander stepped outside, there were no outward signs left he had been crying. The blotchy red patches on his cheeks had faded and his eyes looked normal. He was able to pass for normal as he and Laurens joined the lunchtime crowd. They were the last two to arrive, but plenty of food had been reserved for them. The topic immediately turned again to Aaron’s latest adventures as people revised and reconsidered his news. Alexander would have found it exceptionally dull had he not been starved for news himself. It helped that Aaron proved to be a skilled orator. Alexander hated to acknowledge any skills he had, but he seemed to be able to make even the most dull details sparkle. He was patient with questions and responded amiably to disagreement. No matter how Alexander tried, he could find no fault with Aaron’s behaviour. 

The group could have spent the entire afternoon talking, but after an hour or so people began to remember their work. They slipped away one by one until Alexander was left alone with Aaron once more. Aaron did not immediately address him. He set a pot of coffee brewing in the dying embers of the fire before taking a seat opposite Alexander. 

“I appreciate you agreeing to this conversation. I’m aware you’d rather see as little of me as possible.”

“Just get to the point,” Alexander snapped.

“The duel in Burridge did not go according to plan for either of us. If you can answer some questions for me, I’ll return the favour.”

“You said as much before,” Alexander snapped. He examined Aaron’s expression and posture for any sign of unease or deceit, but to his frustration Alexander could not read anything into the blank and polite smile on Aaron’s face. Without any clues, Alexander resorted to reason alone. Whatever questions Aaron had, he was clearly desperate for the information. That gave Alexander an advantage, something to barter with. It was not enough to buy his freedom, and he was not denied any comforts available in the camp, so in the end, all Alexander could bargain for was information. It was a better deal for Aaron - he could use Alexander’s information in his work (a thought which Alexander despised), while Alexander was limited in what he could do. But if Alexander was to survive and escape, he needed to understand Aaron Burr. Nor could he deny Aaron was fascinating in his own right, somehow able to charm both men and women into falling in line with nothing more than a smile. 

After a lengthy pause, Alexander asked, “Why did you kidnap Laurens?”

It was a question Alexander knew the answer to, but this way, Alexander could judge how honest Aaron intended to be. If his story matched what Laurens had said, it may be a sign he was genuinely willing to trade information. If it did not, Alexander would have a baseline for what Aaron looked like when he lied. Alexander watched Aaron’s eyes flicker over to where Laurens was working, his expression almost guilty. The look was gone as quickly as it came, but Aaron’s smile did not return.

“I was desperate. Theodosia was sick, and we needed a doctor. She couldn’t travel, and even if she could, I couldn’t have stayed with her in town. I had no choice but to bring someone to her. Laurens may not have been practicing as a doctor, but I heard him talk about his qualifications in Michel’s Creek. He was the best chance she had,” Aaron said. The smile returned at the very end as he admitted, “I didn’t even realize he was looking for me. That was an awkward conversation.”

Alexander could not stop a snort of laughter at that. The thought of Laurens’ fear in such a situation should have been sobering, but it was hard to dwell on the past when Laurens was so clearly delighted with his new home. That left Alexander with the thought of Aaron’s complete bewilderment, and that was enough to cheer him considerably.

“So how -”

“Before you ask another question,” Aaron interrupted, “I need to know who told you about Sally.”

The question caught Alexander off guard. It was not what he had expected, and it did not even occur to him to lie or obfuscate the truth. “She did. She begged me not to hurt you.”

For a moment, Aaron stared at him in disbelief, before he let out a low groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to kill her.”

Coming from a murderer, the words should have alarmed Alexander, but only a fool would have taken the words as a threat. This was no confession of _mens rea_ but earnest frustration made sharp by fear. It was a surprisingly human response. For a brief moment Alexander tried to resist the urge to needle Aaron further, but he did not last long. 

“She called you a sweetheart.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I can’t say I agree with her. You’re too prickly to be sweet.”

Aaron let out a long exhale that bordered on a sigh. He crossed his arms over his chest, then uncrossed them and set his hands by his sides. “You are the most infuriating man I have ever met.”

The grin on Alexander’s face felt smug even to him, and he could only imagine how insufferable his gloating must look. The thought only made him happier. If he could not do anything useful, then he could at least get under Aaron’s skin.

“And you’ve brought me into your home for good. You’re not going to let me leave. You can’t kill me, not without losing Laurens too. It’s just going to be this.”

Instead of sighing again, Aaron gave him an odd look. After a measure of silence, he said, “Laurens has nothing to do with it. I don’t like unnecessary bloodshed.”

Alexander’s first instinct was to accuse Aaron of lying, but something stopped him. There was a part of him that could not help but wonder if if the words were true. Twice Aaron had gone out of his way to tell Alexander to leave the area, each time passing up a chance to deal with Alexander quietly. He could have killed Alexander that first night in Michel's Creek. Even the duel had only happened at Alexander’s insistence. It was an unsettling thought. It ran contrary to all Alexander’s assumptions and discredited every source he had read, but he could not deny the evidence of his own eyes. But as the thought took root in Alexander’s mind, his eyes flicked to Aaron’s pistol. There was a new mark, he noted with dismay. He gestured to the weapon.

“There’s a new mark.”

A shadow passed across Aaron’s face. He nodded, and when he spoke he could not meet Alexander’s eyes. “One of the men from our firefight in Burridge. The doctor took his arm, but infection had already set in. He didn’t last the week.”

“Shit,” Alexander said. The words unsettled him to the point that he felt a curious detachment from his body. Would Alexander have met the same fate if he had ended up with a doctor who was less personally invested in his recovery? They certainly would have taken his arm. Amputations were not an uncommon procedure, but they were by no means a safe one. Aaron may well have saved Alexander’s life by bringing him here.

While Alexander’s mind leapt through the logic, memories rose to the surface with enough force to baffle his senses. He could see the fight again in front of his waking eyes, passing in flash after flash. Dread coiled in his gut. It took a few moments for him to pull himself together. When he did, he found he was still shaky and disoriented. He had also come to one dreadful conclusion.

“I’m the only person you shot that day.”

Every other injury had been inflicted by Alexander himself. Although Aaron had fired many times, none of his shots had hit. Aaron looked at him, his expression unreadable.

“Regardless of the details, he never would have been in that fight if not for me. His death is my responsibility.”

“But I’m the one that shot him.”

“He was trying to shoot you. If you hadn’t defended yourself, we’d both be dead.”

“I just wish I knew why,” Alexander admitted, frustration leaking into his tone. “I was working with the sheriff. They had no reason to attack me.”

Aaron looked thoughtful. He took the coffee off the fire and poured two large mugs full, handing one to Alexander. “It’s likely my uncle’s doing. He must have thought you were a threat. He’s done it before when people have gotten too close to the truth. He knows anything involving the name Burr would ruin Sally’s prospects, and I’d be lying if I said he didn’t love her. If he had any idea she spoke to you, that would have been enough for him to want you dead.”

It felt as though the bottom had dropped out of Alexander’s stomach. He cursed crudely enough that Aaron raised an eyebrow at his language. “I told him. I didn’t want your sister getting involved in the duel, so I told him to keep her away.”

Aaron winced. “That would do it.”

“I feel like an idiot,” Alexander admitted, his tone hollow. There had been plenty of evidence for Alexander to guess the truth. Instead, he had been manipulated and deceived into blundering forward without once realizing the danger he was in. He felt a prickle of shame run over his skin. He must be an idiot, as only an idiot would have made his mistakes.

“You couldn’t have known. You had no reason to think Edwards was lying to you, and even if you did, you didn’t have enough evidence to be sure of the truth. And I’ve made evidence hard to find,” Aaron told him. “Outside of this place, there’s only a handful of people who know who I am and what I do. Most of them are not the sort of people you associate with.”

“That doesn’t make me any less wrong.”

“No. But most people are wrong about me,” Aaron told him. His tone was gentle, and Alexander thought the smile on his face was far too friendly for his liking. It made it all too tempting for Alexander to let his guard down and fall under the same mysterious spell Aaron had cast over the rest of the camp. Alexander would not be fooled so easily. He held on to his anger like a drowning man clung to a rope. Even if he could not trust anything he had read or been told, he could trust his own experience - and no matter how friendly Aaron was now, Alexander still bore scars from their duel. The wound on Alexander’s chest had closed, but it left behind an ugly mess of scarring. Laurens assured him the damage would continue to heal, but the scars would never fade completely. It would be foolhardy of Alexander to think of Aaron as anything but the man that shot him. 

Alexander’s talk with Aaron lasted the full length of the afternoon. By the end, Alexander could not say who (if either of them) had come out on top. Aaron had shared plenty of personal information and confessed to more than a few crimes in doing so; in return, Alexander was obliged to share his sources of information with Aaron. Worst of all, Alexander found the conversation enjoyable. Just as Alexander had thought at their first meeting, Aaron was an excellent conversation partner. He could keep up with Alexander’s rapid-paced thoughts and tended to catch details Alexander missed. If things had been different, they might have been friends. It was a thought Alexander did not like. It was also unavoidable, as Alexander did not even notice the hours slipping by. He soothed himself with the knowledge it was impossible for such a friendship to blossom now. Aaron had chosen his path, and it would take more than a quick wit and a charming smile for Alexander to forget it. 

After dinner, Aaron disappeared to fetch a bag from the store room. Alexander watched as he made his way around the group, giving each person a gift. He did not make a big deal of it. Each gift seemed to be tailored to the person’s tastes, expertly so. A woman who had not so much as smiled since Alexander had arrived beamed when Aaron handed her a small felt pouch and threw her arms around him. She pulled six long metal strings from the bag and delicately thread them onto an old beaten up guitar. Another woman received a small bottle of perfume, while Bellamy seemed delighted with his three tubes of paint. While he exclaimed over them, Aaron slipped a small package to Laurens with a wink. Alexander caught a glimpse of the label, and recognized it immediately as the sweets Laurens had asked for.

To Alexander’s surprise, he approached Alexander himself once everyone else was distracted. Unlike the others, Alexander was presented with a whole bag filled with comforts, rather than one or two small items. Even though he could see what looked like a book in the bag, he hesitated to take it.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“I know I’m always happier when I keep my journal regularly,” Aaron said. “And Laurens gave me a few other ideas.”

“But why? And why now?”

“If I’d given it to you earlier, you’d have thought it was a bribe, and I wouldn’t have gotten a word out of you all afternoon.”

It was a fair point, and not one Alexander could contest. Aaron chuckled at his sheepish look.

“You can berate me for tricking you tomorrow, but I’ve left Theo too long. Have a good night, Alexander.”

Aaron did not wait for a response, slipping away to join Theodosia and his daughter on the other side of the fire. Alexander returned to his usual place beside Laurens and Bellamy, clutching the bag tightly. It was strange, he thought, to have a usual place here, but he undoubtedly did. Even on the rare occasions Laurens was busy, Bellamy would seek him out. At first Alexander put it down to curiosity, or perhaps a sense of duty to Laurens, but he was surprised to find Bellamy made good company. He was, Alexander thought, a good match for Laurens. He was quieter than Laurens. Bellamy listened more than he spoke, but when he did join the conversation he brought valuable input. He evened out the impulsivity that Alexander and Laurens shared and did not seem to mind being the voice of reason. He was charming and friendly, and if he could not be called witty, he was at least kind. But even if he had been the most dull and boring man in the world, Alexander would have counted him as a friend for how much he adored Laurens. Alexander had seen very few happy relationships in his life, but theirs seemed to be one of them. Even when Laurens was not paying attention, Bellamy would look at him with open adoration.

Dinner consisted of more fruits and vegetables than usual, a rare treat based on food Aaron had brought. It was the best meal Alexander had had in weeks. After dinner, Laurens and Bellamy went down towards the river.

“To walk,” Laurens said, and Alexander marveled at the fact he had ever fallen for such a blatant lie. He himself did not linger and retreated to his bed. He suspected that sooner or later he would be kicked out of the hospital, but for now, he had the luxury of the whole room to himself. He took advantage of that now. The sun may have gone down, but there was a small lantern that provided a surprising amount of light. Alexander carried it to his bedside and opened the trunk his meagre belongings were in.

It was the first time Alexander had properly examined the contents of his trunk, and the results were not inspiring. The clothes he borrowed from Laurens were on the top. He had avoided looking past them to see what else there was, but he forced himself to do so now. Unsurprisingly his gun and knife were nowhere to be seen, but he was surprised to find he had been given his money back. His pocket watch was there too, although it had a new dent from where Aaron’s bullet had hit it on the way past. It was alarming to think the watch may have saved his life. He pulled it out and wound it before adjusting the time and slipping it back into his pocket. He was delighted to find his pen had made it in one piece, though the nib would need replacing. It would be useless without ink, but Alexander slipped it back into his pockets nonetheless: it had been a gift from Washington, and it was a gift Alexander treasured above all his other possessions.

The last item of interest Alexander found was the book he had bought in Burridge. He had never had the chance to get any use out of it, but he found himself curious to see what it said. Even if it was all rumours and conjecture, it might give him some useful information about Aaron. He turned to a random page and began to read. He made it through two sentences before he stopped, convinced he must be losing his mind. He started again after a pause, but the words on the page had not changed. The book was plainly describing oral sex. The language was blunt and indelicate, providing only the barest semblance of decency by censoring the names of specific parts of anatomy - but even with such words blocked out, there was no escaping the meaning. Oral sex may have been illegal, but the author certainly seemed to have familiarity with it. The scene continued for three pages. It described every one of Aaron’s actions in great detail, emphasising the enthusiasm and enjoyment of his partner. 

As horrified as Alexander was, he found he could not look away. He felt his face warm as he flipped through the book. Every page was more of the same, describing more sex than Alexander would have thought humanly possible in lurid detail. His only comfort was that Aaron was referred to only as Texas Red the entire time, providing a comforting layer of separation. He would at least be able to look Aaron in the eyes the next day. 

After a few moments of consideration, Alexander tucked the book into the pocket of his jacket. He despised having it so close, but the alternative was leaving it in an unlocked trunk for anyone to stumble across. He would keep it with him for now, and decide how to best dispose of it later. 

With his existing belongings sorted, Alexander opened the bag Aaron had given him. The bag itself was of decent make, and would do nicely if Alexander did make an escape, but it was the contents that excited Alexander most. A large journal took up most of the space. It was long enough to last an ordinary person a full year. Under ideal circumstances, Alexander would fill it in a month or less, but if he rationed it out he might get six months from it. He wrapped the book carefully in his cleanest shirt before putting it away. The bag also contained two bottles of ink and a handful of nibs to fit his fountain pen. There was even an ink blotter, leaving Alexander with everything he needed to write. Aaron had thought of everything. 

In addition to the writing materials, other small gifts had been tucked into the bag’s pockets. He found a small jar of his favourite caramels near the bottom, as well as a bottle of cologne and his own personal shaving kit. By the time Alexander had finished unpacking, he had everything he would need to live a comfortable life - or at least, as comfortable as things could get so far from civilization. It would not be luxurious, but nor would he starve or go without simple pleasures. As much as he hated to admit it, Aaron seemed determined to treat Alexander well. He had the same level of comfort as everyone else in the camp. The thought did not sit well with Alexander. He did not want to put it down to decency, but it did not feel like bribery, and it did not seem to be conditional on his behaviour. Alexander did not understand Aaron in the slightest. There was little Alexander hated more than not understanding something, so he resolved to stay as close to Aaron as possible until he gained sufficient understanding. But there was nothing to be done tonight, so Alexander blew out his candle and retired to bed.


	8. Chapter 8

Though Alexander had nothing of a formal education, he considered himself an adept student. When he devoted himself to the topic, he dedicated every waking hour to its understanding. He was thus less than enthusiastic to start his study of Aaron Burr. He comforted himself with the knowledge he would have to spend at least some time with Laurens in order to avoid raising suspicion. Mealtimes, then, Alexander would reserve for himself. For the rest of the time, he would need some excuse to follow Aaron. To Alexander’s surprise, an opportunity fell into his lap at breakfast as when he overheard Aaron complaining about how long it would take him to get the supply room in order. 

“I can help,” Alexander said. Aaron looked at him skeptically, then glanced over to Laurens.

“Doctor?”

“As long as you don’t make him lift anything too heavy, I don’t see why not,” Laurens said. “But why?”

“I want to contribute,” Alexander said. From the way both Laurens and Aaron stared at him, neither of them fell for the lie.

“I could use an extra pair of hands,” Aaron admitted after a long pause.

“Alexander practically ran Washington’s firm,” Laurens said. “He might be able to help organize things.”

“We’ll start with an extra pair of hands,” Aaron said. It was a smart decision, as Alexander could have wreaked havoc if Aaron had decided to listen to him. This way, Alexander could do little to harm them. Nor could he complain, because by all appearances Aaron had given him exactly what he wanted. Alexander forced himself to smile.

“I’d be happy to help.”

It took less than fifteen minutes for Alexander to regret his offer. The storeroom had not been built with human comfort in mind, and the air was hot and still. Worse, Aaron seemed to be in no hurry. He had a large book in which he kept tables of their supplies, against which he cross-checked the contents of the shed. The job would have taken at least a week alone, but it was not long before he and Alexander worked out a system. Aaron sat with his book and called out directions to Alexander. Alexander would track down the requested item and report back on how many they had, as well as their condition and storage location. It was dull work, but Alexander enjoyed himself nonetheless. It was the most physical activity he had been allowed since his injury, and he relished the chance to stretch his muscles. But as the morning wore on, he caught himself shaking and battling fatigue. As soon as Aaron noticed the unsteadiness in Alexander’s hands, he frowned.

“We’re taking a break.”

“I can do this,” Alexander insisted.

“I’m not going to be the one to explain to Doctor Laurens why you can barely stand,” Aaron said. He closed his book and stood up, walking over to Alexander’s side. “We can finish this tomorrow.”

“What about this afternoon?” Alexander wanted to know. He could not stop from flinching when Aaron reached out and touched his back to shepherd him out of the room. The touch vanished. Instead of staying by Alexander’s side, Aaron went ahead to open the door for him instead. As humiliating as it was that Aaron had noticed his reaction, Alexander could not help but be grateful for his response. It showed a surprising amount of concern. Had their positions been reversed, Alexander could not pretend he would have been half as thoughtful. It was an uncomfortable thought, and one he resolved to reflect upon. 

Aaron did not answer Alexander’s question, instead directing him to take a seat. He brought him water and coffee, as well as an entire piece of fresh fruit all for himself. Given the scarcity of fruit in the camp, it was a generous gift. Theodosia’s garden was able to keep them stocked with nearly enough vegetables, but there was little hope of them managing to grow a fruit tree out here. 

After getting Alexander settled, Aaron left once more. Alexander expected that to be the end of their company until lunch, but a few minutes later he returned with his daughter in his arms. At Alexander’s odd look, he explained,

“I hope you don’t mind the extra company, but I like to take an active role in Theo’s life. Have you met yet? Theo, do you know who this is?”

Little Theo pouted, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Alexander. “No name!”

Aaron chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Alexander was too hard, then? How about ‘Hamilton’?”

For one dreadful moment, Alexander thought Theo was going to start screaming. But whatever anger she clearly felt at the request faded in the face of Aaron’s bright, encouraging smile. She mumbled a couple of times before settling on ‘Ham’. She repeated it when Aaron nodded encouragingly, but refused to go further. Alexander groaned.

“I hate that nickname.”

The smile on Aaron’s face vanished. “I can ask her not to.”

Alexander stared at the pair, considering. After an uncomfortably long pause, he let out a loud sigh. “She gets a pass. But if anyone else tries it, it’s not going to end well.”

“Given some of the nicknames I’ve had, I’d be a hypocrite to judge you for that,” Aaron said. That piqued Alexander’s curiosity. He knew he hated the name ‘Texas Red’, but what other names did Aaron dislike? Though Aaron refused to share any examples with Alexander, attempting to nag, bully, or trick him into revealing them provided Alexander with nearly half an hour of solid entertainment. He did not even notice the others joining them for lunch until Laurens sat beside him and passed him a bowl of food. He looked at Alexander with open surprise.

“You look like you’re having fun.”

“He’s fun to pester,” Alexander said, but there was a sinking feeling in his gut. He had been having fun. Panic started to claw at the inside of his chest. Whatever he had told the others, Alexander had zero intentions of reconsidering his opinion of Aaron. He was resolved to hold onto his hatred. The idea that Alexander might be susceptible to the same charm that had won over Laurens and Theodosia was alarming. More alarming was how quickly it had worked. If Alexander could enjoy Aaron’s company after just one morning, how could he hope to last the long months his task would take? It did not help matters when Aaron failed to suppress a snort of laughter, his expression torn somewhere between frustration and amusement.

“I’m not sure if his insults are earnest or in jest,” Aaron told Laurens, “and I’m not convinced he’s sure, either.”

“One hundred percent serious,” Alexander said, but neither Aaron nor Laurens looked convinced. Alexander could not blame them. Despite the amount of force he managed to put into the words, he did not believe them himself.

“Either way, you’ll have to save the rest of them until tomorrow morning,” Aaron told him. “I won’t be needing assistance this afternoon. Theodosia wants me in the garden.”

Alexander nodded, trying and failing to hide his suspicion. He could not decide if Aaron’s words were a euphemism or not. Although he seemed eager for the work, there was none of the smug satisfaction Alexander would expect from a man bragging about his sex life. It was not the first time Aaron had confused Alexander with such behaviour, and Alexander was beginning to think it would not be the last. Aaron did not act like any other man Alexander had ever known. He treated everyone with the same polite, non-confrontational facade, regardless of status or gender. Even Alexander was treated well, to the point that he was learning to treasure the rare moments he managed to cause a flash of real irritation in Aaron. 

Alexander’s confusion on this issue only grew in the coming days. Each morning, he would find an excuse to stay by Aaron’s side. By the end of the week, he did not even bother to come up with an excuse. Aaron would wait for him after breakfast, and the two of them would work side by side throughout the morning. The only time he would leave alone was if his business took him out of the camp (which it did often), but he made sure each time to apologize. Each day, Aaron’s behaviour seemed more and more baffling. His kindness and patience continued unabated, no matter how hard Alexander tried to find his breaking point. 

Most baffling of all was Aaron’s sense of propriety. There were certain comments he would not tolerate, regardless of company: the one time Alexander succeeded in angering him was when he made a crude remark about a past lover, and Aaron refused to talk to him for the whole rest of the day. Alexander had not apologized, but he understood he was on probation the next day. But Aaron did not so much as blush at foul language, and he seemed more at ease with some kinds risque behaviour than others. This became more and more apparent with each passing day as Alexander realized that Aaron Burr was an incorrigible flirt. He did not just flirt with Theodosia. While they flirted incessantly, Aaron did not consider his prospects restricted to Theodosia. He flirted with nearly everyone in the camp. Gender did not stop him. The first time Alexander heard Aaron direct a flirtatious remark at Laurens, he nearly fell out of his chair. His shock only grew when Laurens responded in kind, while the amusement on Bellamy’s face said this was a common occurrence. Laurens was by no means unique. Aaron flirted with every adult in the camp, with only two exceptions. One exception was a beautiful woman with a perpetual frown; the other was Alexander himself. The latter exception did not always hold: there were many times when Aaron would lean towards Alexander with a smooth line and a sly smile, only to straighten up and apologize a moment later. Alexander could not say if he found this behaviour amusing or alarming. It sparked something like panic in his chest, his heart beating wildly. He would catch himself staring at Aaron, oblivious to everything around them. It must be anger, Alexander decided, even if this peculiar feeling was missing the fire of rage that drove his usual disagreements. But anger was the only word Alexander had to describe his reaction, even if it was not a perfect fit. 

After observing this behaviour for some time, Alexander decided it was peculiar enough to warrant commentary. “You’re very affectionate, Mr Burr.”

Aaron let out a questioning little hum, looking up from the map spread out before him. His eyebrows rose a little, and he waited for Alexander to expand on his thought.

“You flirt.”

“Yes,” Aaron agreed, not bothering to deny it. “What of it?”

“You flirt with everyone,” Alexander said, and then gave a meaningful nod towards the grumpy woman, “except her. Isn’t it cruel to neglect her? She’s pretty enough, even with her temperament.”

A small amused smile had started to spread across Aaron’s face, but it vanished at the last comment. “Be careful with your words, Alexander. It isn’t her job to be appealing to you or I. Maria’s had enough problems with men to last a lifetime. I try not to remind her of that.”

“I wasn’t- !” Alexander started to protest, but he cut himself off when Aaron raised a hand to interrupt him.

“You forget that women are our equals in intellect and character. Imagine how violent your temperament might be, if you had only ever been valued for the softness of your hair or the curve of your thigh.”

“You’ve said as much before. If that’s so, why haven’t they written any great works?”

“Why haven’t you?” Aaron asked, to which Alexander had no immediate answer. Before he could collect his thoughts Aaron continued, “In any case, they have. Wollstonecraft’s philosophies are excellent,” Aaron countered. “And her daughter Shelley wrote several novels. Many other women have proven themselves capable since then, across all fields of study. They wanted only for education; and, when provided with one, they proved themselves equal to the best of men. Is that not similar to the predicament we are both in? If our fortunes had been better, we would both be educated men, undoubtedly of some renown. Do you disagree?”

“Disagree! Of course not,” Alexander said. “If the Admissions Board hadn’t kicked me out, I’d be a lawyer by now.”

“And if my uncle had not forged my hand to persuade my chosen college I was deficient of basic reasoning, I would be also. Can you not afford that same faith to women?”

It took a great deal for Alexander to forget an argument, but Aaron’s blase comment about his uncle was enough to do it. He gaped at Aaron in open horror. “He what?”

A thin smile spread across Aaron’s face. It was a bitter and unhappy expression, and Alexander wondered how much it cost him. When he spoke, his voice was tight and controlled as if he was having unusual difficulty holding his emotions in check.

“It was one of his favourite lies. He tried from a young age to convince the world I was a simpleton, unfit to have ownership over my own life. I knew better, but others did not. How could they? He stole and altered every letter I sent. He lied and contradicted me at every opportunity to the point I doubted my own sanity. If I hadn’t hid my books in the stables, he would have burned them to keep me a fool. He wanted me stupid and obedient.”

“He didn’t want you getting your inheritance,” Alexander concluded. If Aaron had been declared mentally unstable, Edwards would have remained his legal guardian for life. He would have gained full access to the famous Burr fortune. He had even admitted that was his intent to Alexander, too smug and confident in his position to ever dream Alexander might learn how far his greed had driven him. If not for Aaron's actions, he might have been right.

“Precisely,” Aaron said. “When he saw I was poised to take control of my life, he sabotaged me. It was an unforgivable attack, but it is no more than we as a society do to women every day.”

Alexander hesitated. He was thrown for a loop by Aaron’s return to the earlier topic. He had braced himself for Aaron to use his uncle’s behaviour to motivate his current criminal activities, but instead he had used it to advance his argument for the rights of women. For the first time, Alexander seriously considered the topic. It was not that he was opposed to women’s education or suffrage per se, but he had never given more than a moment’s thought to the issue. But Aaron had made some intriguing arguments. He suspected the women in the camp might have yet more compelling arguments. This was a delicate matter, and one that Alexander would have to consider carefully.

“Maybe. If I ever get to a library again, maybe I’ll look at some of these books.”

A smile spread over Aaron’s face. “You’re in luck. I’ve got a custom bound copy of Wollstonecraft’s _Vindication of the Rights of Women_ you’re welcome to borrow.”

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” Alexander grimaced. “I suppose that’s fair. And studying the material is the best way to form an opinion on the subject.”

“If you have any questions on the matter, I’m happy to discuss them,” Aaron told him. “But I’d advise keeping any skepticism to yourself in public. I’m afraid poor Laurens used up all of Theodosia’s patience on the topic, and she had more reason to be kind to him than she does to you. I’d rather not see the two of you fight.”

“She seems... headstrong.”

“No more so than anyone else out here. Everyone wants something. Theodosia was just bold enough to take it.”

Aaron’s voice was warm with affection when he spoke of Theodosia, but there was also deep-seated admiration bordering on awe in his tone. The observation made Alexander shift uncomfortably in his seat. No matter what preconceptions Alexander had held prior to meeting them both, it was painfully clear Aaron and Theodosia were very much in love. It added another painful flaw in Alexander’s plan to kill Aaron. However sweet he was to his family, he was an outlaw. Aaron would face justice for his crimes - but Alexander no longer felt satisfaction at the idea of delivering him to justice. Any pleasure he took in the idea was drowned out by the thought of the Theodosias wrought with grief, or the open betrayal he would find on Laurens’ face. His death would come at a price. It should be a price Alexander was willing to pay without hesitation, but he was alarmed to find himself filled with doubt.

That night, Alexander found a copy of Wollstonecraft’s book left by his bedside. He found himself amused at the gesture and set it aside, resolving to commence his study the following afternoon. The morning he expected to spend tailing Aaron, as had become his habit - but when he woke the next morning, it became clear Aaron had other ideas. Once again, he and Bellamy were preparing to travel. Aaron had not donned his red jacket, but the bags packed beside them made their meaning plain. If that had not confirmed it for Alexander, the fact that Laurens had once again stolen Bellamy’s scarf would have done it. When Alexander stepped out, Aaron greeted him with a smile.

“I’m afraid we won’t be able to work together this morning. I’ve got some friends who need some cattle moved across the mountains before any messages can be sent through the pass..”

“Take me with you,” Alexander said, although he did not expect the answer to be ‘yes’. Predictably, Aaron laughed and shook his head.

“You’ll have to make do without me for a week. I’m sure you and Laurens will be able to keep each other busy.”

While Aaron’s prediction was true, Alexander could not shake the feeling the camp was duller without Aaron and Bellamy. It was emptier, to be sure, and there seemed to be a lot less laughter. Part of the problem was Laurens: he disliked being separated from his partner, and this time he made no attempts to hide it. Most of the camp felt the same gloom. They were a close-knit group, and Aaron and Bellamy were both well liked and central to the camp. Even Alexander had grown to enjoy Bellamy’s company, and stalking and pestering Aaron had become part of his routine.

Four days into their absence, he asked Laurens, “How do you stand it?”

“Stand what?”

“Being stuck here all the time,” Alexander said, gesturing at the camp around them. They had stopped for a coffee break after a morning spent measuring and chopping wood, and Alexander was exhausted. His muscles ached from the exertion, and his shoulder still twinged if he moved the wrong way. The discomfort did nothing to help his mood. “The same people, the same buildings, I’m bored to death.”

“I like it,” Laurens replied. Alexander gave him such a look of disbelief that he chuckled. “I mean it. I was miserable in New York, Alexander. I would have left a long time ago if it hadn’t been for you. If I couldn’t leave, I would have found some other way out.”

The confession completely blindsided Alexander. He had known Laurens had not enjoyed the work as much as he had, but it had never occurred to him that he might hate it. A part of him took the sentiment personally - after all, he had been a central part of Laurens’ life in New York. The idea that he had not been enough (or worse, had been part of the problem) stung. It was only Laurens’ comment that Alexander had kept him in New York that soothed his wounded ego. But even if his temper was calmed, Alexander found himself no closer to understanding.

“I thought you wanted to move to New York.”

“I did. I wanted to get away from everything,” Laurens said, frustration creeping into his voice. He rubbed a hand over his face. His entire frame seemed to tense, and his jaw moved as if he were grinding his teeth hard. The frustration shifted to pure anger, and he growled, “I couldn’t handle medicine at the time, but that didn’t mean I wanted to work in _law enforcement_ , and I sure as hell didn’t want anything to do with Washington. He stands for everything I was trying to escape.”

“Washington’s a good man,” Alexander protested. Laurens gave a bitter snort of disbelief.

“He’s just like my father. Men like him were the whole reason the rebellion happened. We could have lost everything, and for what? You might be able to ignore his role in the rebellion, but I can’t, Alexander. I was there. I was the one who had to deal with the aftermath of the battles. You don’t even know - ” Laurens cut himself off, choking on his own words. The blood rushed from his face. His chest stilled, and a few moments later he shifted to short, shallow pants. Whatever memories had come up had swept him away. It was not until Alexander reached out and touched his shoulder that he recovered. He stared at Alexander, relaxing ever so slowly. Once he seemed calm, Alexander retrieved his hand. After a few moments of staring at it, Laurens said, “We never should have gone to war. Not for that.”

Alexander hesitated. The southern rebellion was one of the few political topics he avoided like the plague. Even with the war five years past, it was still a sore topic. It did not help matters that he had found himself with many close friends from Virginia and South Carolina, putting them naturally at odds with each other. Laurens had always been the exception. Despite his family and background, he was openly and vocally against slavery, and more than once had referred to the loss of his family fortune as ‘just desserts’. It was a point that had always confused Alexander, but now he thought he could guess at the truth. Cautiously, he pointed out,

“From the way Washington tells it, you served in the war, too.”

“I was a medic,” Laurens agreed. “My father pulled some strings. He knew I didn’t want to fight, but he was adamant we do our bit.”

He looked at Alexander, his expression suspicious and uncertain. After a few moments, he appeared to reach a decision, and the pain in his expression eased. “I was a spy, Alexander. Washington doesn’t know. No one knows but you and Bells. The north would never have trusted information from a Laurens, so I used a fake name. I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how.”

After allowing a pause to see if Laurens would confess to anything else, Alexander admitted, “I’m not as shocked as I should be.”

“I’m not exactly subtle,” Laurens said with a snort. “But no one ever looked past my name. I got caught three times going through the mail, and each time I passed it off as wanting to now how my father’s command was going.”

“Washington would have had you hanged if he’d known,” Alexander said. A shiver of fear ran down his spine at the very idea. Washington may have been the one to give Alexander a living, but it was Laurens who had made New York into his home. After a year thinking his friend was dead, the idea of a world where they had never met was enough to chill him to the bone. Some of that fear must have crept into his voice, because Laurens shuffled along the bench they shared until they were close enough to touch.

“He didn’t.”

“He never found out,” Alexander realized. He had remembered Washington’s distress at Laurens’ apparent death, although it had been dwarfed compared to Alexander’s all-encompassing grief. If he had known about Laurens’ past, he would have done all but send Aaron a thank-you note. The very thought made Alexander nauseous.

“Like I said, only you and Bells know. He’ll only find out if you tell him.”

Alexander stared at Laurens outrage and made a frustrated gesture with his hands. His voice rose as he said, “If I tell him? I’d never!”

Laurens raised an eyebrow. “You’d tell him where I am now if he asked.”

Alexander opened and closed his mouth several times before he found his voice. Half of him roared in indignation, but another part of him argued it may well be true. Certainly if he had escaped immediately he would have done so without hesitation. But now Alexander caught himself wondering. If something could be done about Aaron without jeopardizing the rest of the camp, he would keep them secret. When he finally found his voice, it was a lot smaller than it had been just moments before.

“I don’t know what I’d do.”

The words clearly surprised Laurens, but from the warm smile that spread over his face, he did not doubt them for even a second. He put his hand on Alexander’s good shoulder and squeezed it. 

“I appreciate it. I know how much you respect him.”

“If you hadn’t thrown your lot in with scum like Burr, I wouldn’t hesitate. If I could turn him in without revealing you, I’d do it,” Alexander told him. That startled a chuckle from Laurens.

“And here I thought the two of you were learning to get along. Unfortunately for you, Bells and Aaron are a package deal. Even if they weren’t, Aaron is my friend.”

Alexander did not need words to express his outrage at the idea of getting along with Aaron. His spine straightened, and everything in his posture showed his offense. “Get along? With him?”

“You wouldn’t be so offended if it wasn’t true,” Laurens pointed out. There was an insufferable grin on his face, and Alexander was all the more irritated for knowing the words held a grain of truth. Whether he liked it or not, he had come to enjoy Aaron’s company. He could only hope he would regain control of his feelings when Aaron returned.


	9. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fun notes:
> 
> * I used an inflation calculator for this, so the numbers are plausible  
> * People really did write vintage shit about historical Burr while he was alive, and it's a damn shame we don't make fun of this point more often  
> * People who comment are the reason I bother to edit and post this, so thank you all so much!

A week after Bellamy and Aaron’s return, Hercules announced he had finished the first of Alexander’s new outfits. Alexander and Laurens were similarly excited. They were both sick of wearing the same wardrobe, and Alexander was eager for clothes that actually fit. There were no proper bathing facilities within the camp, so the two of them made for the river to wash up. They were followed by Hercules and Bellamy, who then invited Aaron, until all the men in the group had joined them for a swim. It was a social affair, as people splashed around and raced each other up and down the river in small groups. This, Alexander realized, was what Laurens had been up to when he had first woken up. 

As much as Alexander enjoyed the chance to swim, the water was colder and murkier than he was used to. The river was clean, as rivers went, but Alexander had learnt to swim in crystal clear seas. It had been his one pleasure before moving to the US. Even if the warm oceans and tropical fish were now only a distant memory, it was enough to take the novelty out of a cold river lined with mud. Alexander was the first out of the water. He dressed quickly in his new clothes and found himself delighted with his new outfit. The fit was exquisite, and Hercules had included the kinds of pattern and embroidery that Alexander had missed so much. It was not as fashionable as Alexander might have preferred, but he was by far the best dressed in camp. As he put on his new jacket, he felt like his old self. He took a moment to collect his pen and handkerchief from Laurens’ jacket before marching up hill. He made it only a handful of steps before he heard Laurens call,

“You left something in my pockets!”

Alexander made it two steps back towards Laurens before he remembered what he had left. His blood turned to ice. He dashed back towards Laurens, but it was too late: by the time he made it, Laurens had already pulled out the slim book Alexander had bought in Burridge. His eyebrows shot up when he read the title.

“‘The Adventures of Texas Red’. You bought a book about Aaron?”

“I didn’t know what it was,” Alexander said desperately, but it was too late. In better circumstances, Alexander would have been entertained by the way Laurens’ jaw dropped. His eyes widened, and he looked between the book and Alexander and back again several times before he found his voice.

“This is smut!”

The exclamation drew the attention of the whole group, and everyone still in the water paddled a little closer to hear better. For one wild instant, Alexander considered throwing himself back in the lake fully clothed and drowning himself. If the earth would not do the decent thing and swallow him whole where he stood, then he could at least spare himself the humiliation of having to hear another word of this conversation.

“I just saw the title. I didn’t have any idea what was inside it,” Alexander protested.

Laurens read on in silent horror, his expression growing more and more disturbed by the second. After just a few moments, Bellamy climbed out of the river and quickly dressed before dashing to his side. He peered over Laurens’ shoulder. Sure enough, his expression soon twisted to a similar horrified grimace - but after just a few moments, he laughed. 

“Listen to this!” he said, before reading a passage aloud. He barely made it to the end of the first sentence before people began to chuckle. It did not help that Bellamy’s recital grew both louder and more dramatic as he went on, only pausing to add his own commentary about the inaccuracy of the text. Laurens was laughing so hard he could barely stand, forced to lean on Bellamy for support. By the end of the paragraph, everyone but Aaron and Alexander was howling with laughter. Aaron, to Alexander’s surprise, was the only person that seemed as embarrassed as he was. He sunk low into the water as if he could hide from the words. Alexander was astonished. Out of all the jibes and insults Alexander had thrown his way, none had done half as much to distress Aaron as this. It seemed strange, given the book was highly complimentary.

“I’m showing this to Theodosia,” Bellamy declared, and dashed off before Aaron could even pull himself from the water. Aaron’s shoulders slumped with a sign. 

“No wonder you hid it,” Laurens snickered, clapping Alexander on the shoulder. “It’s a load of rubbish, though. Even I can tell they got the woman’s anatomy wrong, and Aaron’s nowhere near ele- “

“It’s slander, Doctor Laurens,” Aaron interjected smoothly from behind them. His voice was calm and level, but his hands shook a little as he rushed to dress. “There’s no more truth to it than the stories about duels or murdering law officers.”

“I’m not sure I’d consider that book slander,” Alexander pointed out. Aaron gave him a flat look. His expression was not a frown, but he somehow managed to convey both disapproval and disappointment with with a single look.

“I don’t go around seducing people. It’s a vile habit that leads to poor decisions and shame on the one who initiates it. I never dally with anyone who is anything less than enthusiastic.”

Alexander raised his eyebrows. “Theodosia would have been married when you met.”

“I wasn’t the one seducing,” Aaron countered, and the faintest hint of a smirk spread over his lips. Alexander had no immediate comeback for that. He had expected a remark about enthusiasm, or perhaps an insult aimed at Sheriff Prevost, but he had never heard a man admit to letting a woman initiate things, let alone brag about it. As Alexander climbed the hill up to the camp, he reflected he should not be as surprised as he was. Aaron and Theodosia were the most peculiar couple he had ever met. This was no more than another sign of their baffling habits, one that would easily be lost among a thousand other strange behaviours.

Back at the camp, Theodosia had set her book aside to read the thin novel Bellamy had presented to her. Upon seeing Aaron, she opened her mouth, clearly about to tease him - but something stopped her. She closed the book and slipped it into her pocket. The mischief faded from her expression, replaced by gentle affection. She gestured to him, and Aaron walked over and embraced her. It was a warm and tender embrace, designed to comfort above all else. Theodosia said something too soft for Alexander to hear, but whatever it was startled a laugh from Aaron. 

“What I want to know,” Laurens said, coming to stand beside Alexander, “is where you got that book.”

“I bought it,” Alexander said. The entire camp seemed to be watching him, and he considered bolting for three whole seconds. Instead, he said, “The woman I bought it from didn’t want me telling anyone where I’d found it. I’d only seen the title, so I thought she was afraid.”

“So you’ve had it all this time,” Laurens said. Alexander nodded. Even though it had been the obvious conclusion, both Laurens and Bellamy started laughing at this. The object of mockery shifted from Aaron to Alexander for his attempts to conceal the book. Fortunately for Alexander, he knew Laurens’ train of thought well. He was able to jump ahead to the punchline of the jokes, stealing the glory and redirecting any insults to the people around him. Even if the insults were meant to be humorous, not genuine, Alexander would not tolerate a single word said against him without a fight.

The book, Aaron, and Alexander were the chief sources of entertainment that night. It was not until the next day that Alexander had the chance to speak with Aaron about it. He would not apologise, but he was also very certain something had to be said. He waited until the two of them had some semblance of privacy before saying,

“I really didn’t know what was in that book.”

“That much was obvious,” Aaron assured him, amusement warm in his voice. “Even if you had not said as much several times, your reaction to Laurens’ discovery said enough.”

“I expected it to be full of rumours and hearsay,” Alexander admitted. “But nothing like that.”

Aaron hummed - presumably in agreement, but there was not enough emotion there to rule out irritation or dislike. Aaron looked at him. For a few terrible seconds they made eye contact. Alexander stood frozen, a whirlwind of emotions thudding in his chest, until he broke Aaron’s gaze and looked away. Even without looking, he could feel Aaron’s gaze on him.

“You’re defensive,” Aaron observed. “Why? I’m not angry at you.”

“You were embarrassed yesterday,” Alexander said. “That was not my intent. It has often been my intent to annoy, enrage, or irritate, but never to humiliate. I don’t want you embarrassed. I want you dead.”

Aaron’s eyebrows shot up. He put down the paper he was reading and leaned a little closer to Alexander. Surprise had overtaken him so completely that even his polite, blank look failed him. 

“You’re lying.”

“Embarrassing you in front of your friends is pointless. It would only sow division, and I have no problem with anyone else in this camp.”

“Not about that. You don’t want me dead,” Aaron said, with alarming certainty. Alexander stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

“Of course I do. You’re an outlaw.”

A smirk started to spread across Aaron’s lips. “You’re lying. I can tell.”

Flustered, Alexander began and abandoned half a dozen retorts in the space of just a few seconds. The result was a jumbled mess of syllables that did nothing to make his case. He grit his teeth and tried again.

“If I was armed, I’d kill you now.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Aaron said confidently, leaning back in his chair. “Even if you’re lying to yourself about what you want, at least acknowledge the truth in your actions. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack me like this. If you killed me now, you’d be dead before sundown.”

Alexander hesitated. He had a point. “If I find a way - “

“You promised Theodosia you wouldn’t kill me until you understood the details of the situation. Was that a lie? Or do you think you understand everything?”

The glare Alexander sent his way had enough venom to kill, whatever Aaron thought of his motives. 

“I hate you,” Alexander snarled. His rage only spiked further when Aaron chuckled and returned to his work. 

Whether Alexander wanted to admit it or not, Aaron had identified a major problem for Alexander. His vow to Theodosia complicated things. He had made it in bad faith, fully expecting to have his curiosity sated within two weeks at most. It had not occurred to him that over a month could pass with him still undecided. ‘Undecided’ was not a strong enough word for it: he was torn. Alexander counted many of the people in this community among his friends, to say nothing of the strength of his bond with Laurens. Murdering Aaron would break them. It would do more than destroy their friendship with Alexander. The grief Laurens would feel was enough to make him hesitate; the scale of Theodosia’s pain was unthinkable. Any act of violence against Aaron would be an act of violence against them.

To make matters worse, Alexander’s own feelings towards Aaron were not so clear as he would have liked. He would kill Aaron, given the opportunity to do so safely and discreetly, but the idea did not give him the satisfaction he once had. If one ignored his criminal tendencies (something Alexander was wholly unwilling to do), one would come to the inescapable conclusion that Aaron was a respectable man. No part of his behaviour was disagreeable or unlikable. In another life, he and Alexander could have been the best of friends. Though the details of their opinions differed, they were motivated by the same base desires. As allies, they would have been unstoppable. The wistful edge to that thought alarmed Alexander. They were enemies, and enemies they must remain. In the end, Alexander was sure, they would destroy one another. He could only hope that in doing so, they did not each destroy everything else they valued in the world. 

Alexander’s gloomy train of thought put him in a foul mood for the rest of the day. It was not rare for Alexander to find his emotions at cross purposes with his reason, but he was unused to it in such a serious situation on this. It was one thing to recognize his pride and short temper sometimes intervened with his goals; it was another thing entirely to have the very foundation of his beliefs shaken. There were no shades of grey when it came to a man with Aaron’s reputation. Either Aaron was a good man, or Alexander enjoyed the company of a criminal. No matter which was true, Alexander had made a serious mistake. 

The full scale of his mistake did not occur to him until he found Aaron planning his next robbery. He had taken over Laurens’ desk for the task. Maps and newspaper clippings were scattered across every surface, and Aaron examined each of them with a critical eye. The sight made Alexander’s heart ache.

“You don’t have to do this.”

The guilt in Aaron’s eyes when he looked at Alexander only made his heart sink even further. “I wish that were true.”

“You took over $500 from the train I arrived on. There’s no way you’ve spent that much. You don’t need more.”

“I’m not very good with money,” Aaron said blandly. 

“That doesn’t mean you get to take money from other people!” Alexander protested, his voice rising a few decibels. Aaron ignored him, turning his back to Alexander so he could examine a newspaper article about the unbreachable vault that had been installed in a local bank. Alexander’s temper spiked. “Fine. Rob the bank. You’ll just get yourself killed, like all the other idiots who tried to rob that same kind of vault in New York. It’s completely secure.”

“There’s no such thing as completely secure,” Aaron said. “There are only vaults that have been robbed, and vaults which will be robbed.”

“Fine,” Alexander snarled. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“If I’m dead, I won’t have the chance.”

It was the smug smirk on Aaron’s face that pushed Alexander’s temper over the edge. He launched into a series of blistering insults. When that did not work, he reminded Aaron how he would be abandoning everyone in the camp. His daughter would grow up without a father. Theodosia would struggle to support herself, perhaps even returning to her husband. After a few minutes, Aaron turned back to Alexander with surprise on his face.

“You’re worried about me.”

“I think you’re being an idiot,” Alexander countered. “I can’t believe I’m being held captive by such a moron.”

“How embarrassing for you,” Aaron said, his tone dry and flat. Even if there was no outright anger in his voice, Alexander realized he had crossed a line. He hurled one last insult and retreated, doing his best to make it look like he was leaving out of boredom rather than anything else. Much to Alexander’s irritation, he could not get Aaron’s face out of his mind. There were many scenes from their argument that kept replaying in his mind, but by far the most persistent thought was of how guilty Aaron had looked at the start. Something did not add up. 

Instead of finding a way to help around the camp, Alexander took his journal and pen and retreated to a private spot near the river. He did not write down his suspicions, but he did start a list of incongruities. At the top of the list was Aaron’s temperament. He showed no signs of bloodlust, and his manners were agreeable. Half the camp seemed to consist of his kidnapping victims, but Alexander was the only one who bore him any ill will for it. With the exception of Laurens, the rest had actively colluded in their kidnapping. That was without accounting for his treatment of Alexander. As much as Alexander hated to admit it, Aaron had gone to great lengths to avoid injuring him. It pointed to one inescapable conclusion: though Aaron may break the law, he was not amoral. 

The circumstances grew muddier when Alexander considered Aaron’s motives. Thanks to his work with Aaron, Alexander now knew the contents of the storehouse as well as anyone in the camp. He also knew how much Aaron was rumoured to have stolen - and the numbers did not add up. Aaron was losing hundreds of dollars before he even returned to the camp. While Alexander was more than willing to believe he was bad with money, no one was that bad. Nor did it seem likely that he was hiding it from the camp: Theodosia would have caught him if he tried, and he did not seem the type to hide things from his friends. The longer Alexander stared at his rough estimates, the more convinced of his reasoning he became. Men lied; numbers did not. Something was driving Aaron to steal more than he needed or wanted. The only remaining question was why. 

Alexander spent fifteen minutes staring at the river, lost in thought. After their argument, he would get no straight answers out of Aaron. If Alexander was to make progress on his investigation, he would need a more amiable target. With this in mind, he returned to the camp and followed the sound of Laurens’ laughter to find Bellamy. He hesitated when he found them at last. Bellamy had set up an easel and paints facing the mountains. Laurens lounged by his side with his head in Bellamy’s lap as he looked up at the sky. Flecks of paint marked his hair and skin from when Bellamy had lost his focus and indulged in a tender moment with his partner. It was an intimate scene, one that Alexander found himself reluctant to interrupt. But before he could retreat, Laurens caught sight of him and called his name. Trapped, Alexander had no choice but to join them. Laurens sat up, but he kept so close to Bellamy their legs were touching where they sat.

“We heard you arguing with Aaron earlier,” Laurens said. “Something about him being a witless scoundrel and a suicidal idiot?”

“What’s he planning on this time?” Bellamy asked, not looking away from his painting.

“They just got a new bank vault in Michel’s Creek. It’s a new design, guaranteed to be unbreakable and -”

“And he’s going to clean them out, again,” Bellamy concluded for him. Alexander nodded. He was once again disappointed by the responses of both Bellamy and Laurens. Neither seemed to disapprove of Aaron’s plan on moral grounds, and from their response, Alexander guessed this was not unusual behaviour for Aaron. A frown started to tug at the corners of his lips.

“Again?”

“The top security vaults were his first target. After he wiped them out, they banded together and got a newer, more secure vault in place.So he did it again.”

“That’s people’s life savings,” Alexander said with a frown.

“No. That’s the wealth of people rich enough to have insurance,” Bellamy said. “And it’s the quickest way to get that much gold.”

“Besides, Aaron likes a challenge,” Laurens butted in. 

“It’s almost certainly a trap,” Alexander pointed out.

“Of course it is. The last one was. But the sheriff there couldn’t find his ass with his hands. Last time Aaron locked him up with his own handcuffs.”

Laurens let out a snort of laughter at that, and even Alexander had to admit it made an amusing image. He also did not miss the fact that Aaron had allegedly left the sheriff unharmed, unless one counted wounding his pride. It was also in line with Alexander’s observations. If Aaron was the man Alexander had once believed him to be, there would have been nothing left of the sheriff but a few bloody remains. The thought reminded Alexander as to why he had come, so he asked the question outright.

“Why does he do it?”

“Why does he do what?” Laurens asked. Bellamy said nothing, but Alexander thought he saw his posture stiffen. His suspicions were confirmed when Laurens looked over at him in concern and reached over take his hand.

“Michel’s Creek is the largest settlement in the area. Unless he’s hoarding a secret stash, I can’t account for what he does with all the money.”

“There’s over a dozen of us, and we’re not self sufficient,” Laurens pointed out, but there was a hint of doubt in his voice. His expression fell when he looked at Bellamy and saw the guilt on his face. Alexander felt a quick stab of guilt. It had occurred to him that Laurens might know less about the situation than his partner, but he had not realized Laurens might not know that. The last thing he had wanted to do was drive a wedge between the lovers. His heart broke even further when Laurens said “Bells?” in a quavering voice.

“We could live in luxury for half of what we take,” Bellamy admitted. “But it’s not that simple. There are people we have to pay to keep ourselves alive.”

“You expect me to believe it’s taking you hundreds of dollars to bribe a few small town sheriffs?” Alexander asked. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking at Bellamy expectantly. Laurens had not taken his eyes off his partner, his face frozen in that awful mask of betrayal. Of the two of them, Alexander suspected it was Laurens who was more convincing. Bellamy ducked his head, staring at the ground to avoid eye contact. 

“It’s my fault.”

Alexander raised his eyebrows. “Last time I checked, Burr’s a grown man. He can take responsibility for his own actions.”

“Aaron stuck his neck out to save me and made some nasty enemies in the process. They know who he is. If we don’t keep coughing up the cash, they’ll wipe out Burridge.”

“Burr’s the most feared outlaw in the area. Who could threaten him?”

“Second. Only the second most feared. There’s a reason Washington avoided taking jobs in this area,” Laurens said. His voice sounded dead and hollow. Bellamy shifted to wrap both his arms around him, but Laurens did not seem to take any comfort in the contact. “And there’s a reason he sent me instead of you. Jefferson may be scum, but he’d never hurt another southern gentleman.”

Laurens spat the last words like a curse. The bitterness Laurens felt towards so much of his country was a brutal thing, as deep-seated as it was ugly. It was something that had always made Alexander uncomfortable. He may not have had the best start in life, but at least he was not torn in two between his beliefs and his family. Laurens continued,

“Jefferson pushed for war and lounged around his home until Virginia was taken. Got out by the skin of his teeth. You can figure out the rest.”

Alexander nodded slowly. It was a story he had heard many times from his southern friends. With their land taken from them, they had found themselves in search of new means of employment. Some, like Washington, had improvised. Others had refused to adapt, complaining and campaigning and insisting that they were victims, as if they had not been the ones to rise up in arms. Jefferson, it seemed, had improvised. But there was one thing that Alexander still could not understand.

“Why didn’t we ever do something about him? If he’s worse than Burr, the reward for catching him must be a fortune.”

“He and Washington were friends before the rebellion. Good friends,” Laurens said flatly. 

“No,” Alexander said, although he had no doubt Laurens was telling the truth. He did not take umbrage with the idea that Washington might be friends with such a man, but the idea that it would affect his decision making was unthinkable. Despite his flaws, Washington had a strict moral code. Alexander had seen first hand the lengths he would go to in order to preserve that. And yet - Alexander would cut out his own tongue before he admitted it aloud, but Washington had favourites. He had dismissed perfectly capable men for the slightest of offences, while Alexander and Lafayette could get away with anything short of murder. If he empathised with Jefferson’s position, it may be enough to convince him to turn a blind eye. The very thought made Alexander sick, but he could not deny it. It sat in the back of his brain as a cold, dark certainty. 

“So this Jefferson is friends with Washington. And Burr’s scared of him?”

“Everyone is scared of him,” Bellamy said. “The last journalist to publish a story about him was murdered, along with his entire family. No one wants to be next.”

“And you pay him,” Alexander said, trying and failing to keep the disappointment from his voice. After all the time and energy he had poured into hating Aaron, he could not help but feel let down by the idea his rival was a coward. “Why not kill him? You can’t just give up.”

Bellamy hesitated for a moment. “We’re waiting. Going after him now would be suicide, but sooner or later, he’ll make a mistake.”

“So that’s your plan?” Alexander asked, disgusted. “Pay him off and wait for him to knock himself off?”

“There’s something I don’t understand,” Laurens said. There was a horrible weight to those words. Bellamy looked as though he was about to vomit from nerves, and Alexander couldn’t blame him. If that tone had been aimed at him, he would have dreaded whatever came next. “You said Aaron was in trouble for saving you. How would that upset Jefferson?”

Bellamy tried to turn his face away, but Laurens shifted with him. He reached up and touched his cheek. There was an intensity in Laurens’ eyes Alexander had never seen before, and he felt abruptly as if he were intruding on a private moment. He expected Laurens to repeat his question, but Bellamy broke before he could.

“He took Aaron and I in when we were on the run. Neither of us liked it, but we had nowhere else to turn. We tried to make the best of it. Aaron worked his way up, but I never managed to. I’ve always been a rubbish liar. 

"Aaron, though. You haven't seen what he's like when he's stuck underneath someone like that. It's like he's gone. He stands there and smiles and never disagrees, no matter what you say to him. He'd do it for weeks at a time as a kid, every time his uncle got worse, and the longer it went, the longer it took him to come back. 

"We were with Jefferson for six months. There were days I wasn't even sure if Aaron recognized me. I started to save money, trying to get enough to buy our way out. I didn't even know if Aaron wanted to leave, but I had to get him out of there. I kept a fraction of what we stole, and sometimes I'd pinch things from the supply shed. One man found out, but he decided to join me. I thought with an extra pair of hands it would go faster, but we got sloppy. I got caught. They hauled me up in front of Jefferson like it was some kind of trial.” Bellamy stopped and swallowed heavily. His hands shook a little, and he leaned his whole body against Laurens. “They slaughtered man helping me. It wasn't quick. They would have done the same to me, but Jefferson wanted to prove a point. He told Aaron to do it.”

There was a sharp inhale from Laurens. Bellamy managed a miserable smile and pressed his lips against Laurens’ temple. “He refused, of course. Not that I was so confident at the time. He refused, and he was smart enough not to make it sound like a negotiation, which is why we’re still breathing. He caught everyone off guard. It was supposed to prove his loyalty, but instead he convinced Jefferson he’d be more valuable operating remotely. He’d send a monthly tribute, and all he asked was to take me with him. I don’t think it even occurred to him to pull the trigger.”

The very thought made Alexander sick. He liked Bellamy. Even if he had not, he was surprised to find himself empathising with Aaron. It was not so long ago Alexander had thought himself forced to choose between a friend and almost certain death. He could only imagine how much worse it might have felt if the threat had been explicit. In place of his disappointment, Alexander found himself with a newfound respect for Aaron Burr. There were not many men who would take the risks he had taken for his friend. Whatever else Alexander thought of the rest of his actions, he had shown remarkable loyalty in standing up for Bellamy.

“I wish you’d told me,” Laurens said quietly. Bellamy grimaced.

“I know. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“You’re my partner. I always worry about you when you leave,” Laurens said. The words held enough tenderness that Alexander abruptly felt like an intruder. Before he could commit to sneaking away, the moment ended and Bellamy admitted,

“Most people don’t know. Theodosia knows I did something, but not what I did. Maria knows about the debt, but that’s it. She’s the best marksman we’ve got, so she’s normally with Aaron and I for the deliveries.”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” Alexander reasoned. “The numbers didn’t add up.”

“Alexander thinks mathematics is easy,” Laurens explained, which earned a snort of disbelief from Bellamy. It was not an uncommon reaction, but it was not one Alexander had ever understood. Numbers and words were easy. Their meaning was precise and definite, and both could be chained together in infinite combinations to whatever effect Alexander desired. What he could never understand was how poorly people understood them. People were astounded by even the simplest calculations or prose, and Alexander could not understand why. 

Given his success thus far, Alexander spent the rest of the day pestering Bellamy for more information. While Bellamy was free enough with matters relating directly to himself, he guarded Aaron’s secrets closely. Nothing Alexander said or did got him to budge. Alexander could not begrudge him his loyalty, but it made things difficult for Alexander himself. He had hoped Bellamy would reveal something Alexander could use against Aaron. Instead, he found himself harbouring a new respect for his rival. There were still questions left unanswered, but Alexander found himself facing the very real possibility that Aaron might not be the criminal mastermind he had assumed.


	10. Listen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who has kept with this story, especially those of you who leave comments! I know posting is slow. My life has become infinitely busier this year.

Three days later, Aaron left with two of his friends to rob the bank. No one seemed the least bit surprised or suspicious that he was heading out again so soon. Some people asked him to bring certain things back, while others just wished him luck. Laurens sent him away with enough morphine to kill an elephant, as well as laudanum, gauze, and more. He had been carrying little in the way of medical supplies when he had shot Alexander. They would not make the same mistake twice. 

Much to his annoyance, Alexander did not cope well with their abrupt absence. Laurens spent every minute of every day fretting about Bellamy, and Alexander could not pretend to be entirely unconcerned. Worse, he found himself concerned for Aaron. He told himself it was because he did not want to miss the money and glory that would come with turning him in himself, but he knew it was worse than that. He missed Aaron’s company. Their daily arguments had formed a comfortable rhythm that Alexander found himself lost without. He had made plenty of friends in the camp, but none of them had Aaron’s dry sense of humour and sly smile. Alexander found himself counting the days until Aaron’s scheduled return. The knowledge that he was doing so did nothing to help his mood. It was bad enough that Alexander had noticed he missed Aaron. It was worse when Laurens noticed, but he kept his thoughts to himself beyond one or two meaningful looks.

Disaster struck when the rest of the camp figured it out.

Alexander’s friendship with the band of outlaws was a double-edged sword. As much as he enjoyed their company, the group (led by Hercules) had no qualms about teasing Alexander mercilessly. His only refuge from the teasing came in Theodosia’s company. It was an uncomfortable sort of refuge, as Theodosia herself baffled Alexander. Much like Aaron, she seemed to be a walking tangle of contradictions. She could be as stern and commanding as any man Alexander had met, but when the need did not arise, she was gentle and feminine. Even more peculiar, the two did not seem to contradict one another in person. It was only later, when Alexander stopped to consider her behaviour that he found himself baffled.

Perhaps the most confusing thing about Theodosia was that, on the surface, she and Aaron had little in common aside from their intelligence and morals. She was tall and stern, only smiling when something especially pleased her. Although she disagreed with Alexander often, they rarely argued. She would disagree flatly, stating her opinion as fact without offering any evidence. If Alexander pursued the matter, she would leave. When he tried to start an argument with her about her tendency to disengage, she pursed her lips.

“I am under no obligation to explain myself to you. Aaron may be patient with you, but I have no desire to waste my breath on someone who will not listen. You don’t want to learn, or even to debate. You have your ideas, and you want to prove that they are good ideas. But until you learn to listen, you won’t be half as intelligent as you think you are.”

Outraged, Alexander tried to argue, but Theodosia did not wait to hear his disagreement. She left without another word, leaving Alexander with no outlet for his rage. He spent the rest of the afternoon fuming about it, although he got little sympathy from his friends when he tried to share his complaints. The words bothered him more than he liked to admit. Worse, he could not figure out why. Her opinion ought to have meant little to him, and he had no doubt that the fault was hers, not his. His behaviour was perfectly acceptable. More to the point, Alexander was going to prove it. He monitored his interactions around Theodosia from that moment on, making sure nothing he said or did could be misinterpreted as pointless grandstanding. He listened attentively to every word. When she made a point in a debate, he forced himself to stop and consider it before he opened his mouth. The only person he told of his plan was Laurens, who snickered whenever he saw Alexander biting his tongue to hold back some vital argument. 

Nearly two full weeks passed without any sign of Aaron and his gang. When they did return, they did so with very little fanfare. Alexander did not even notice at first, too absorbed in the novel he had borrowed from Aaron’s library. He remained oblivious through the greetings and reunions until Aaron sat by his side.

“You might want to slow down. You’ve seen how small the library is, and even the best book loses some of its charm after the tenth time,” Aaron said. He smiled when Alexander started, the expression surprisingly warm and affectionate. It triggered a rush of something similar in Alexander’s chest, and he found himself clapping Aaron on the shoulder and grinning right back.

“You made it back! Does that mean you gave up?”

Aaron shook his head. “Of course not. My plan worked. Jefferson’s paid until the end of summer,and I won’t need to worry about anything but perishable goods until then.’’

“But how?” Alexander wanted to know. “I’ve seen those safes. You couldn’t blast through the door without bringing the whole bank down on your head.”

“I unlocked it.”

Alexander snorted. “Yeah, right. Pull the other one. Even if you could pick one of those locks, it would take hours.”

“It did take longer than usual,” Aaron said with a thoughtful hum. “Seven whole minutes. Bellamy is never going to let me hear the end of it.”

“You’re an asshole,” Alexander told him. It would bad enough that Aaron had no shame in admitting to being skilled at criminal activities, but Aaron was not content with that. No, he was bragging. There was an arrogant smirk on his face that made Alexander’s blood boil. His fingers itched with the urge to reach out - but to do what, he was not sure. Strangle him, maybe. “I can’t believe you’re bragging about how easily locks.”

“I’ve been picking locks for as long as I can remember. It would be embarrassing if I couldn’t do it well.”

Alexander frowned. “So you’ve been a thief since you were a child? What happened to the story about Jefferson blackmailing you?”

Aaron let out a long sigh. “You jump to conclusions too quickly, Alexander. I was breaking out more often than I was breaking in. My sister and I weren’t often allowed out of the house. If I stole anything as a child, it was from the kitchen, or the library - both of which rightfully belong to me. I didn’t steal anything properly until I had no other choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Maybe. But how far would you go to avoid breaking the law?”

It took Alexander a beat to realize the question was not rhetorical. When he considered it, he was alarmed to find he did not have a clear answer. There had been times in his life he had come close to thievery, and he could not say with confidence that it was his morals that had saved him. If Washington had not walked through the door of that bar years ago, where would Alexander have ended up? How hungry would he have let himself get before he stole a meal?

That was without considering the host of crimes Alexander had already committed. None of them were acts Alexander considered criminal, but he had technically broken the law. The crimes ranged from jaywalking to bribery to perversion - but they had all been well motivated. America was over-legislated. Alexander maintained that it was impossible to walk down the street without breaking some law or other. If a crime had no violent or financial motive, Alexander could not have cared less about it.

When Alexander took too long to respond, Aaron gave a grim smile. “Would you let yourself die? Would you let Laurens die?”

The words turned Alexander’s blood to ice. His eyes darted around the camp. He first made sure he could see Laurens, safe and sound and whole. From there he began calculating his odds of an escape. Before he could do more than plan, Aaron held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“I don’t mean that as a threat. I don’t intend on allowing any harm to come to Laurens, or you. But I want you to understand the situation I found myself in. I had to find some way to satisfy Jefferson, or Bellamy and I would have been slaughtered.”

“You could have avoided him entirely,” Alexander pointed out. Aaron snorted.

“It’s not like we walked into the Gulch and asked for an audience. We were running east when he stumbled across our camp. I had to find some way to convince him we were more use as allies than hostages.”

“I’m a hostage,” Alexander pointed out. Aaron let out a small huff at that, and he hid a smile behind his hand.

“Strictly speaking. But I’m not threatening to send pieces of you to a rich relative to get cash.”

Alexander’s stomach turned at the very idea. It seemed too farfetched to be true, but there was something about the hollow note in Aaron’s voice that suggested otherwise. He thought of his original fear of Aaron. He had spent his entire journey to the camp terrified, convinced Aaron had some brutal end planned for him. It was all too easy to imagine what might have happened if his fears had come true. A shiver went down his spine. 

“I’m still a hostage.”

“If I could see another solution, I’d take it. I’m still hoping that sooner or later, we’ll be able to come to an agreement.”

Despite his instinct to deny the words, Alexander found himself wondering if they were true. From Aaron’s perspective, Alexander was a threat. Letting him go would be suicidal. Killing him would have been the cleanest thing to do, but instead he kept him here: if not happy, then at least relatively safe. It had not occurred to him that Aaron may take no more pleasure from the situation than Alexander.

The thought bothered Alexander all through the morning and afternoon. The more and more time he spent with Aaron, the more he found himself forced to reassess his opinion of him. Worse, it became harder and harder by the day to pretend he disliked him. Talking (or arguing) with Aaron was one of his favourite parts of the day. Not even the friendly teasing from Hercules and Laurens could take away the pleasure Alexander took in needling Aaron until he could break past his insufferable, eternal smile.

As had become routine, Aaron and Alexander retreated to the storeroom the next morning to assess their inventory. It was a long process. They had to not only store all the goods Aaron had brought back, but balance the books and check against their current supplies. It should have been the most dull work in the camp, but Alexander found the hours slipped by unnoticed. 

His only complaint was the inefficiency. It had grated on him last time, but he had forced himself to keep his mouth shut. It had taken all of his willpower not to complain, too intent on tricking information out of Aaron. This time he had no such patience. After just one hour, he snatched the logbook and pen from Aaron’s hands.

“This is ridiculous!” Alexander huffed. He listed the faults in Aaron’s system as he read it. He did not even try to soften his words, viciously attacking every flaw he found in the system. As he worked, he scribbled his thoughts down. As he did, he explained how he was modifying the layout of the book and why. To his surprise, Aaron did not try to stop him. He sat by his side and listened, occasionally asking questions or disagreeing with something Alexander had said. Ordinarily the questions would have vexed Alexander, but Aaron’s questions proved unexpectedly interesting. Within ten minutes he had a solid grasp of the underlying rhetoric Alexander was using to guide his framework. From there he began to pick apart its flaws, always offering a suggestion for improvement. With a few notable exceptions, his ideas were excellent. Alexander argued with them nonetheless. As intense as the arguments became, the outcome was worth it. After three hours, they had completely overhauled the accounting system the camp was using. Alexander’s ideas formed the skeleton of the new framework, but it was hardly recognizable compared to where he had started with. Aaron’s contributions had refined the uncut brilliance into a flawless diamond. Alexander beamed at him. 

“We’re brilliant.”

The warmth in Aaron’s answering smile made Alexander’s head spin. 

The last time Aaron had returned with so many supplies, it had taken them three days to catalogue it. With their new system, they finished in the late afternoon. To celebrate, they opened a bottle of whiskey and took a seat in the communal dining area. A few people had started cooking, but there was nothing urgent about their pace. They drank and gossiped as they worked. Aaron and Alexander were accepted into the small group without hesitation, each on their own merits. Aaron was of course infinitely popular with the people in the camp, and Alexander had found his niche. Even if some people did think him disagreeable, he was a novelty. In such a small community, anyone with news or stories to share was popular by default. It was a fact Alexander used mercilessly. Once he had broken past any grudges that might have been held for his brashness, he was able to charm almost anyone he desired. There were a few people who were stubborn in their opinion of him, but by and large he was welcomed.

To his surprise, Aaron proved to be very susceptible to Alexander’s strategy. Under ordinary circumstances, it was too hard to tell what he was thinking. Even when his expression shifted and changed, it was only from one insufferably unreadable expression to the next. Alcohol changed that. The whiskey melted Aaron’s restraint away, rendering his mood loose and pliable and open for all to see. Alexander delighted in it. He had long found enjoyment in dragging reactions out of Aaron, but he had been oblivious to how good it felt to make Aaron laugh. The sound filled Alexander’s head with a giddy kind of joy. The smile on Aaron’s face was no longer polite and impartial, but bright and radiant in a way that should have lit up the whole night sky. His laugh was even better, especially as it progressed from smooth and elegant to undignified giggles. It was marvelous. It may do nothing to advance Alexander’s goal of learning his motives and weaknesses, but it was hard to worry about that when he had Aaron by his side. 

By the time Laurens and Bellamy joined them, the two of them had finished half the bottle of whiskey. Laurens took one look at them and took the bottle away. Both Aaron and Alexander made sounds of protest, but Laurens was unmoved.

“You’re going to be hungover enough as it is. You’ll thank me in the morning. Well, Aaron will.”

Alexander glared mulishly at him. He was about to formulate another protest, but before he could, Laurens slapped a hand over his mouth. Dismayed, Alexander made a sound of protest. When that did nothing, he tried licking Laurens’ palm in the hopes disgust would make him pull his hand away, but his plan backfired. Laurens had taken the time to sprinkle salt over his palm. He let Alexander pull back after that, but Alexander was too busy making gagging noises to say anything.

“He does this every time he’s drunk,” Laurens said. “I don’t know why he thinks licking will work, I haven’t responded to that one in years.”

“Next time, I’m biting you,” Alexander muttered. If Laurens heard him, he chose to ignore it. From his left, Aaron passed him a glass of water. Alexander drained it in seconds, gulping down the liquid as fast as he could in the hopes of washing the taste of salt from his mouth. When he was done, he let out a mournful sigh. “I can’t believe I’ve been betrayed by my own brother.”

“We’re not related,” Laurens pointed out. “You couldn’t pass for a Laurens if your life depended on it.”

“My family. My own flesh and blood,” Alexander continued, getting a little louder this time. Laurens gave a snort of laughter and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“You’re drunk,” he said, before Alexander could launch into a long spiel about the strength of their friendship and brotherhood. Alexander nodded agreeably. That much he knew better than to deny. 

“Aaron and I were fixing the accounting system. Aaron, tell him,” Alexander said. He reached out and grabbed Aaron’s arm, tugging him a little closer. Despite having just instructed Aaron to speak, Alexander filled the silence with an excited description of the changes they had made. He concluded by beaming at Aaron and saying in an awed tone, “And you were useful. I’ve never met anyone who could keep up with me before.”

“And here I thought you wanted to kill me,” Aaron replied. There was a smirk on his face. He was almost smug in his certainty that Alexander would not harm him, but the words still made Alexander’s face fall.

“I don’t want to. But it’s my job. Washington depends on me. It’s not my fault you broke the law, and I don’t get to choose to just ignore it.”

“What if it wasn’t your job?”

Alexander stared at him. The words were easy to understand, but the idea behind them seemed impossible to comprehend. His work was his life. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The words came out whiny, even to Alexander’s own ears, but for some reason Aaron smiled. He tilted his head back, staring up at the sky with a smile on his face. “There’s more to life than what your employer wants, Alexander. I was told all my life I’d become a priest. I was taught it was my duty to the Lord. But I’m here.” A hint of astonishment crept into his voice, and the smile on his face spread. “I made it out.”

The words struck a chord with Alexander. He, too, looked up at the stars. With only the light from the fire around them, he could see the dusty clouds of the Milky Way spill across the sky. Beyond that, he was lost. He had learnt the constellations as a child, and could find his way home by the point of the Southern Cross - but there was no cross in America. The stars were strange, and Alexander had never bothered to learn them. There had been more important things to do. It was only now he looked at the sky that he realized how very far he had come. The plains and mountains of America could not be more different from his island home. It may not be the city and cushy academic job he had dreamed of, but his sacrifices had taken him worlds away from where he had started. 

When Alexander looked back down, Aaron was staring at him. The expression on his face was intense in a way Alexander could not describe, let alone understand. He stared back, having no clue what his own expression might say. Despite the hum of noise and activity around them, the world seemed to drop away. Alexander’s heart pounded in his chest. For once, his mind was completely blank. The chaotic turbulence of ideas and hypotheses that normally filled his mind stilled. The silence ought to have been terrifying, but Alexander was too hypnotized to panic. Aaron shifted a little closer, a sly smile on his face. Alexander’s head started to spin. 

The moment was broken by a wail from baby Theo across the campsite. Aaron’s attention shifted in an instant. He dashed over to his daughter, taking her from her mother and cradling her close. Alexander was left to sit frozen, aware that something fundamental had shifted but utterly clueless as to what. 

“You’re quiet,” Laurens observed, and handed him a glass of water. Alexander took it and drank, using the motion as an excuse not to talk. His mind felt strange, clouded in a way it hadn’t been just a few minutes before. He remained quiet throughout the following meal. It was only as Laurens and Bellamy helped him stagger back to bed that he said,

“I don’t want to hurt Burr. Aaron. I like Aaron.”

Alexander’s voice sounded small and lost, even to himself. He watched Laurens and Bellamy exchange looks, both of them smiling.

“I wondered how long it would be until you’d come around,” Laurens said. “I knew you’d like him if you could stop arguing for an afternoon.”

“Oh, we didn’t stop arguing,” Alexander beamed. “I like arguing with him. He’s got good ideas. And he can make my ideas better. I didn’t think that was possible. His arguments are persuasive, his manner succinct and eloquent, and he laughs at my jokes. I wish he wasn’t an outlaw. Why couldn’t he be a lawyer? Or a reporter? Or a pretty girl with rich parents?”

The last thought made a peculiar warmth spread through Alexander’s chest, and he found himself smiling. The reaction from his friends was the opposite. Laurens had been laughing amicably through his reasoning, but now he stopped and gave Alexander a strange look.

“Why a woman?”

Alexander stared at him. He was silent for a few moments as he grappled with the question. Plenty of answers came to mind, but none of them were worth considering or acknowledging. His face shifted into a grimace of confusion. “I don’t know,” he admitted, a hint of panic entering his voice. Before he could fret further, Bellamy put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently.

“Because he’s drunk. If we’d let him keep talking he would have ended up wishing he was a horse.”

“Right,” Alexander said, jumping on the idea. “I’m drunk.”

“You’re a dreadful liar is what you are,” Laurens grumbled, but he did not push the issue further. Alexander gave Bellamy a grateful look. He was not sure why he had provided Alexander with a cover story, but he was confident he had done it deliberately.

A few minutes later, and Alexander was left alone with his thoughts. He lay in his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Bellamy may have spared him from Laurens’ interrogation, but he had not been able to stop Alexander’s own thoughts. The quiet from earlier was gone as his mind whirled with half-formed thoughts and ideas. His peculiar comment about Aaron had not been unmotivated, but the motivations were alien and frightening to Alexander. When he did sleep, he dreamed strange dreams of arguments and guns and silk as red as blood.


	11. Attraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments. It's the feedback that keeps me pushing on with this in a dead fandom, so thank you <3

As the weeks slipped by, spring gave way to summer. 

The heat was dry and oppressive in a way Alexander had never known. The nights were so hot that Alexander gave up sleeping indoors, trading his mattress in the hospital for a bedroll on the ground. Even the hottest nights were cooler under the pale moonlight than they were indoors. But if the nights were hot, the days were hell. Theodosia’s plants wilted, and people stuck to the shade at all costs. On the hottest days they would take turns swimming in the river, alternating between the cool water and letting the sun bake them dry. These days were both a blessing and a curse. More than once, Alexander caught himself sneaking glances at Aaron for reasons he could not comprehend. The urge to look bordered on irresistable. It must be curiosity, he told himself. Aaron had a distressing number of scars on his body, and Alexander could not help but wonder where they had come from. Some of them were recognizable. The marks on his knees were likely scrapes from falling as a child, and Alexander had seen enough bullet wounds to recognize the mark on his abdomen. But the scar down the side of his face remained a mystery. The line stopped where it met his jaw, but a few inches below there was a tangle of scar tissue on his collarbone. The sight made Alexander’s fists clench in anger. Now that he knew Aaron better, he could imagine no situation where an attack to his face might be merited. 

To Alexander’s surprise, his improved relationship with Aaron affected his entire life in the camp. He had thought he had been welcome before, but he could not deny the change in the way people treated him as they realized his hostilities had faded. For some of them, the change was subtle. Hercules had always been friendly to him, but he had never been outwardly enthusiastic to see him. Bellamy relaxed too, treating him now as if he were a member of his own family. Others were less subtle, and switched from reviling him to accepting him. He suspected he knew why, but that did not stop him from asking when he got the chance. He approached a woman called Maria, laying out the situation and asking why. Maria took a moment to assess him. She looked him up and down in a manner Alexander might have taken as an encouraging sign, if not for the small frown of disapproval on her lips.

“You wanted to kill my friend, and you’re accusing me of being rude to you?”

Alexander opened his mouth to argue. He shut it a moment later. It took a great deal for Alexander to back down from an argument, but there was something about the glint in Maria’s eyes that told him this was a good time to do so. He gulped and changed tactics.

“I’m no threat to Aaron.”

“If you were, you wouldn’t be alive.”

“I mean I don’t plan on hurting him. He’s my friend.”

The frown on Maria’s face eased, but the rage in her eyes still simmered unabated. “Which is why I’m trying to be polite.”

“This is polite?” Alexander blurted, before he had a chance to think better of it. Instead of replying, Maria turned and walked away. As Alexander stared at her retreating figure, Aaron slipped after her. He handed his daughter off to Alexander as he passed, not bothering to give Alexander any instructions. By now, he knew what was expected of him. He looked down at the child in his arms in bewilderment.

“Did that make any sense to you?”

Little Theo beamed up at him, calling him ‘Ham’ and tugging on his hair. It was likely meant to be an affectionate gesture, but that did not stop the sharp sting of pain that came with the motion. He let out a sigh. 

With nothing better to do, he took Theo with him to the hospital and settled himself at the desk. One precious drawer had been set aside for Alexander’s usage. The rest of the office area was split between Laurens’ medical notes and Aaron’s plans, maps, and assorted criminal dealings. With Theo seated on one thigh, Alexander pulled out his journal and began to write. He spoke each word aloud as he did, pointing it out to Theo as if she had any hope of understanding his essays on the economy. His progress was slower than usual, but he did not think the quality was affected. Every now and then, he would catch himself arguing with Theo, as if her nonsense babbling was disagreement. He was in the middle of one such argument when Aaron entered the room.

“ - so lowering tax as an incentive to get people to pay is a ludicrous idea based on completely - oh. Aaron.”

Silence stretched out. It could only have lasted a few seconds, but to Alexander it felt like an age. Finally, Aaron began to laugh. In short order he was reduced to leaning against the door, clutching his sides as he gasped for breath. When he looked up at Alexander, his smile was brilliant and bright and full of enough affection to make Alexander’s head spin.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“She didn’t seem to agree with my plan,” Alexander said weakly. That prompted more snickering from Aaron, but this time he retained enough dignity to cross the room. He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest.

“That’s because your plan is flawed.”

“Excuse me?”

There was a challenge in the grin Aaron sent him, one that Alexander was all too happy to accept. The resulting debate lasted for three hours. Eventually Aaron ended up taking a seat opposite Alexander, plucking Theodosia from his arms as he did so. Once their final remarks had been made, the two of them fell into a comfortable silence. Before Alexander could complain about the quiet, Aaron said,

“I wanted to talk to you about Maria.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Alexander protested. “She -”

“Alexander,” Aaron said. There was a note of steel in his voice, and Alexander found himself falling quiet despite his desire to do otherwise. His reward was a small smile and a nod of approval. “I’m not here to scold you. I wanted to ask you to give Maria her space - not because of anything you’ve done, but because what others have done.”

Alexander’s expression scrunched up in confusion and disapproval. “I don’t understand.”

“When you first woke up here, you were terrified of me,” Aaron said. His voice was steady, but Alexander had learnt enough about Aaron to notice the undercurrent of regret in his tone. “I saw how you looked at me. And I can’t blame you for that. You had good reason to think I was a threat.

“For Maria, it’s worse. She has had to endure unimaginable indignities at the hands of men in her past. The situation is particularly awkward, because one of them bore an unfortunate resemblance to you.”

“How so?” Alexander asked. He could not keep a defensive note out of his voice. The idea that he was being judged for his looks galled him.

“It’s hard to pinpoint. You wear your hair the same way, and the shape of your jaw is similar. Mostly, it’s the eyes.”

“What? Brown? She must be scared of half the population, then,” Alexander scoffed, even though he suspected the issue was not the colour. As expected, Aaron shook his head.

“You want. There’s a greed in your eyes most people don’t have. For someone who knows you, it’s not alarming at all. But the last man Maria knew like that had her driven out of town. I found her walking down the road with nothing but the clothes on her back.”

“What happened to him?” Alexander asked. It was easier to think of that than the scene Aaron had described. The roads between towns were long out here. Between outlaws and scarce water sources, the road was difficult enough on horseback. A single woman travelling alone would be doomed. As hard as he tried to ignore the image, he could not stop thinking of Maria staggering down the road alone, hunched and shivering and terrified.

At Alexander’s question, Aaron’s eyes dipped to the floor for a moment. “I stole every penny he had and put him in the livestock carriage of a train going east.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t kill him.”

“I considered it,” Aaron admitted. “I left the decision up to Maria. After all the choices that had been stolen from her, I thought it only right to let her decide. Thankfully, she chose to let him live. It’s a relief not to have more blood on my hands.”

“And I look like this man.”

“It’s not something you can help,” Aaron said. “But you need to give her her space.”

Alexander was silent for a few moments as he considered the proposition. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t care,” Aaron replied. It was the rudest thing Aaron had said to him in weeks. Alexander found himself gaping at Aaron, who remained entirely unapologetic. “I’m disappointed that you aren’t willing to consider your affect on others, but my opinion isn’t what matters here. I expect certain behaviour from you. Whether or not you like it is of little consequence.”

“You’re serious,” Alexander said. He could not stop surprise and dismay from worming into his voice, turning his tone whiny and petulant. He had become accustomed to Aaron’s polite facade. Worse, he had come to count on his friendship. 

“It’s not personal. I’m not asking you to do anything that I wouldn’t do myself,” Aaron said. “And I know you’re capable of understanding why I’m asking. The only question is if you care enough to try.”

“Fuck you,” Alexander said, but it failed to get the reaction he had hoped for. Worse, he found his mind entirely devoid of arguments. Aaron had a point. Not only that, he knew Alexander’s weakness, and had not hesitated to flatter his ego at the same time as insulting his moral fibre. 

“Language!” Aaron chided, covering Theo’s ears with his hands. “If you’re going to curse at me, at least have the decency to do it away from my daughter. If the next word she learns is f- what you said, I’ll be very cross.”

Unable to resist the urge to be contrary, Alexander asked, “If she says what?”

Aaron’s lips pressed a little closer together, but Alexander could have sworn he saw the corners twitch upwards. “Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Alexander said. “But if it annoys you, I’ll endure it.”

“Is that what you think you’re doing? Annoying me?”

“Maybe,” Alexander said, to avoid giving a straight answer. The truth was, his goal was not purely to annoy Aaron. That had been the case at first, but he had moved past such pettiness now. He liked to push Aaron as much as possible, and did not particularly care which direction. Unfortunately, admitting to that would not only be embarrassing - it would likely be counter-productive to his goal. If Aaron knew what he was doing, he would surely clam up. 

Luckily, Alexander’s vague response and insufferable air gave no clue as to his inner motivations. Aaron let out a small huff. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re just easily riled,” Alexander said, although that was not true in the slightest. That earned him a small smile, which was much more alarming than Aaron’s earlier huff. It left open the possibility that he, Alexander, was the butt of some joke. 

“You’re the first one to say as much,” Aaron countered. The two of them stared at each other. Alexander could not put his finger on what, but something inside him shifted. Even though the topic had been abandoned, he heard himself say,

“I’ll leave Maria alone.”

The smile Alexander got in return was dazzling, though for reasons Alexander did not entirely understand. It was not an especially wide smile, nor did it show off Aaron’s uncommonly nice teeth. But the genuine relief and happiness in the expression took Alexander’s breath away. 

“I’m glad. For a minute there, I thought I’d misjudged you.”

“Why were you so confident in the first place?” Alexander asked curiously. Aaron shrugged. When Alexander pushed the matter, he gave various answers, but none Alexander found satisfactory. Aaron had no reason to trust him. More to the point, he had every reason to believe the worst of Alexander. They were (or had been) mortal enemies, and Alexander had made a point of being as irksome as possible. But the closest thing to a reason Aaron gave was vanity. 

“At this point, it would reflect rather poorly on my judgement if you were committed to being uncivil.”

“It’s not like you chose to bring me here,” Alexander pointed out. “Your choice to kidnap me was independent of who I am.”

“I had options. You almost certainly would have died if I had tried to take you to a different doctor, but under different circumstances I might have taken the risk. And if I brought you here, I did not need to spend nearly so much time with you.”

“Most people lock prisoners up,” Alexander nodded. Aaron laughed.

“We hardly have the space. And if I locked you up, who would help me run our finances?”

“I’m pretty sure even Theo could do a better job than you were,” Alexander countered. Tellingly, Aaron did not try to argue. 

“I never learnt how to manage accounts. I would ask Theodosia to take over, but I don’t want her to realize how much I have to pay to keep Jefferson at bay. You’ve already figured that out.”

“How much is it?” Alexander asked curiously. With a sigh, Aaron produced a small key and unlocked one of the cabinets. It took him seconds to locate what he was looking for. When he did, he handed Alexander a contract. Alexander read it with disgust. He had expected the terms to be bad, but this went beyond what even he had imagined. Aaron was to pay each month. The sum was to increase each quarter, or as Jefferson’s whims dictated. Should payment be delayed by even a day, Jefferson would pursue Aaron and Aaron’s estate for twice the sum that was owed. In return, Aaron was permitted to operate alone. Furthermore, although he was entitled to take Bellamy with him, and would be held accountable for any of his actions. It was outrageous. It was cruel. It was undoubtedly illegal, but then, the entire situation was illegal. What mattered was that Jefferson had Aaron trapped.

“I can’t believe you signed this,” Alexander said.

“These were the best terms I could secure,” Aaron said bitterly. “I couldn’t wait. I had to agree to something to keep Bellamy alive. I would have agreed to anything to get him out of there.”

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t just fight.”

Aaron shook his head. “I never thought you’d be this idealistic. There were two of us, Alexander, and I was the only one armed. Jefferson has nearly two dozen men. Fighting would have been a slow, drawn out suicide.”

“I’ve seen you take on worse odds,” Alexander argued, thinking of the ambush in Burridge. Aaron disagreed.

“You don’t know Jefferson. If there’d been a different way, I’d have taken it.”

A new edge had entered Aaron’s voice. For once in his life, Alexander took the hint. They changed the topic to something mundane, and slowly the awful tension in Aaron’s voice leaked away. It was not long before their disagreement was forgotten entirely. The two of them settled back into conversation as easily as old friends. 

Even now Alexander had accepted he thought of Aaron as a friend, he was still astounded by how easy their friendship was. He ought not to have enjoyed Aaron's company as much as he did. In some ways, such as their comfort and familiarity with the other’s habits, they seemed like very old friends indeed. The only person in the camp who knew Alexander half so well was Laurens, who had the advantage of several years with Alexander. Even then, there were times Aaron seemed unsurprised by behaviour that startled Laurens. His understanding seemed to be built not out of experience, but by some deep seated knowledge of who Alexander was at his core. It was an alarming thought. While Aaron could read Alexander like an open book, Alexander struggled to snatch a fragment of understanding in return. He could not predict his behaviour. He could not even understand behaviour. Worse, he could not understand his own reactions to Aaron’s behaviour. 

Even though Alexander had lost his fear of Aaron, there were still times he made his heart pound or his face flush. As time passed, it became harder and harder to pretend the reaction was anger. At first, he had genuinely mistaken the peculiar response for rage, but the evidence began to pile up against him. Aaron could trigger such a response with something as simple as a smile. It happened when they were arguing, yes, but also when they were at ease. It happened more often when Alexander was in a good mood to begin with, and most often of all when Aaron flirted. 

This last point was not as rare an occurrence as it might have been. As Alexander had observed once before, Aaron had a tendency to flirt with everyone. When he had first arrived in the camp, Aaron had avoided flirting with him. When Aaron forgot and flirted anyway (which he often did), he would apologize for his behaviour the instant he realized what he had done. At some point, he had stopped apologizing. Alexander could not pinpoint when, nor what he could have done to prompt the change. After the discussion they had shared about Maria, Alexander was confident Aaron would not be flirting if he realized how uncomfortable it made Alexander. Something in Alexander’s response must be encouraging him. 

With this in mind, Alexander tried to consider his reactions from an external point of view. When he did, he was alarmed by what he found. If one discounted the possibility of anger, it would be easy to mistake Alexander’s responses for interest. When caught off guard, he would joke and laugh and even flirt back before he realized what he was doing. When he did, he would abruptly change the topic and pretend nothing had happened. Alexander blamed Aaron for that particular habit. Flirting came to Alexander as easily as breathing, and he could not be blamed if he did so without intent.

A different man would have been content with what he had learnt. On the surface, the explanation of Aaron’s behaviour seemed complete, and there was no point considering the matter further. Alexander was not that man. He had never known when to leave well enough alone, especially when it came to pursuing an idea. Now that he had turned his attention to his feelings and behaviour, he was overwhelmed by what he found. The rush of heat and delight he took in Aaron’s presence could mean only one thing: Alexander was attracted to him.

The implications of that thought could not be ignored. If Alexander was attracted to Aaron, then he was attracted to men. If he was honest with himself, it was not the first time the thought had occurred to him - but it was the first time he had acknowledged it. Even now, the thought brought with it an undercurrent of fear. He had seen what the world did to men who indulged in such inclinations. He had watched for years as Laurens had moved from one furtive meeting to the next and wondered how he had the courage to do so when one mistake could mean his life. 

In the past, that fear had been enough to stop Alexander. He had convinced himself his feelings had been a peculiar quirk, a result of too much drink or not enough sleep. But without the fear to quench the heat in his emotions, the excuses seemed comically inadequate. Much like his fear of Aaron, Alexander’s fear of his attraction to men had leaked away. It was hard to be frightened when Laurens and Bellamy were right there, openly delighted in each other’s company. There were other same-sex couples in the camp, too. It took Alexander an embarrassingly long time to realize how many of the women were romantic partners as opposed to close friends. When he ran the numbers in the head, Alexander was surprised to find that heterosexual relationships were a strict minority. Aaron and Theodosia were the exception, not the rule. This struck Alexander as a particularly cruel irony. Of all the men he could have chosen, he had developed an interest in the one that was doubly unavailable: once for his relationship, and once for his attraction to women. 

That should have been the end of it, but a traitorous corner of Alexander’s brain would not let the matter go. Was it possible to be interested in men and women? Surely it must be, or Alexander himself must be mad.

The thought bothered Alexander more than he liked to admit. After several days of grappling with himself, he cornered Laurens in the hospital under the pretense of having a medical issue. Laurens knew him well enough to be skeptical, but he did not protest. It was not until they had shut the door behind them that he said,

“Okay, Alexander. What’s this really about?”

“I’ve known you were attracted to men for years. I had it figured out three months after we moved in together. Even if I hadn’t overheard you with a man, you were never actually upset if a woman rejected you. You don’t care about women.”

“Did you have a point?” Laurens asked cautiously. There was suspicion in his face, but not the outright fear there would have been a few short weeks ago. Alexander counted that as progress.

“I like women. I tried to get married while you were gone, but her father said no. She had the prettiest blush, and God, her figure. I don’t know how you can miss the appeal of breasts.”

Laurens crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. Alexander shifted his weight from foot to foot, fidgeting. Here was the difficult part.

“But,” he said, and stopped there. He wasn’t sure what else to say. Laurens looked at him expectantly, clearly waiting for more. For a few moments Alexander scrambled for words, unsure of the most effective way to express his dilemma. 

“Men. Some men are, well, nice,” he said lamely. He thought of Aaron’s brown eyes and warm smile, and amended. “Marvelous. Intoxicating. I want - but surely I can’t want both.”

The impatience vanished from Laurens’ expression, along with the judgement. A smile started to spread over his face. A knot of tension eased somewhere in Alexander’s gut. He had not realized how frightened he had been until the threat of rejection had been safely removed.

“I’m sure you can,” Laurens said gently. “But I might not be the best person to ask. You should talk to Aaron.”

Alexander gave him a panicked look and blurted, “How did you know?”

The next few seconds felt like an age to Alexander. Shock spread across Laurens’ face, as Alexander realized the mistake he had made. Laurens had not known.

“All I meant was that he’s like that. Not - shit. Aaron?”

“Aaron,” Alexander said miserably. He was too humiliated to be cheered by the news that Aaron, too, did not seem to be confined by gender. He took more comfort from the wince that stole across Laurens’ face. He reached out and squeezed Alexander’s shoulder.

“It could be worse. He’s not ugly.”

“He has a family,” Alexander pointed out. “And he’s a criminal.”

“You’d be a criminal, too, if you did anything with him,” Laurens reminded him. Alexander winced at the words. The thought had occurred to him more than once. It had been enough to make him hesitate, but it was not enough to make him want to stop. For once, Alexander let the silence drag out. It was only when Laurens started to talk again that he said,

“Drop it, Laurens. I know it’s a bad idea. I’ll get over it.”

“But -”

“Drop it,” Alexander repeated, sterner this time. There was enough force behind the words that Laurens fell quiet without further argument. He did squeeze Alexander’s shoulder one last time in a silent gesture of comfort, but it did not help. There was nothing to help Alexander with the fact he had fallen for someone completely unobtainable.


	12. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably going to be a while (maybe a month) before I can update, so here's a long one.
> 
> Thank you again for everyone who left kudos or comments, I love every single one of you

“I’m going away for a few nights. I’m meeting a contact for news,” Aaron said abruptly one morning. 

Alexander’s mood immediately soured. It had been hard enough being left behind when he had hated Aaron. Now his discomfort was twofold: not only was he reminded he was a prisoner, but his chief source of entertainment would be gone. Without Aaron to pester, Alexander would be bored out of his mind. As close as he was to Laurens, he could not find days worth of entertainment in him. 

After waiting for a moment and receiving no answer, Aaron said, “I’d like you to come with me.”

Dumbfounded, Alexander stared at him. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“I’ll take precautions, of course. For the first day’s ride, I’ll need to blindfold you, and I’m not going to allow you a pistol. But I could use the company.”

“Why me?” Alexander wanted to know. Aaron shifted his weight a little and avoided Alexander’s eyes.

“Must I have a reason?”

“You’re holding me prisoner,” Alexander reminded him. “Most people don’t take their prisoners out on day trips.”

“When I was a child, a circus passed through Michel’s Creek,” Aaron said, as if that had anything to do with the topic at hand. Alexander scowled. If Aaron noticed, he gave no sign of it. He plowed on, staring at a spot just to the side of Alexander’s eyes. “They had a lion. The cage they had it in was barely large enough for it to turn around. I’ve never seen a creature in such poor condition.”

“You’re comparing me to a circus animal,” Alexander said flatly. Aaron shrugged.

“Whether or not you like it, the comparison is apt. I’ve seen you pacing up and down the camp. You hate it here.”

“I don’t hate it,” Alexander said, which was not entirely true. At first, the camp had seemed like a living hell. He had hated every tree, rock and stone in the camp. He had taken offense to everything from the sound of the river to the birds singing, and to Aaron most of all. Now, his feelings could scarcely have been further removed from those early days. He was happiest when Aaron was free to spend time with him, filling his day with satisfying arguments and laughter. The desire to escape had started to fade. At the same time, his murderous intent towards Aaron had leaked out of him and been replaced by warm affection. When Alexander considered the situation, he found he could draw only one conclusion. 

For the first time in his life, Alexander was content.

There were things he wanted, yes, but they did not seem so pressing as they had six months ago. And yes, he had been happy in New York, but he had never been satisfied. The idea of rest had been an anathema. Each accomplishment only fed his hunger for more, and Alexander never took the time to celebrate one victory before chasing the next. Here, Alexander was forced to think differently. The challenges he faced were finite and the victories smaller. At first it had only enraged him, hollowing an empty cavity in his chest as every inch of him howled for more. But over time, the emptiness eroded. He found pleasure in the smaller victories, and even learnt to enjoy things that did not have any reward or competitive spirit. 

The one thing that had not changed was his hatred of being stuck. If he had been able to leave, it would have eased his frustration, even if he was obliged to return. At the end of the day, there was simply not enough stimulation in the camp to keep Alexander’s mind busy. It was worse when Aaron was gone. Laurens was a dear friend and a smart man, but he was (in Alexander’s private opinion) just shy of being a _genius_ , and that was what Alexander needed to entertain him. Aaron was the only person in the camp with both the intelligence and temperament to satisfy Alexander.

He tried to express this to Aaron, although Alexander found he did an alarmingly poor job of it. It did not help that he was reluctant to confess Aaron’s own role in his happiness. There was a part of him that was embarrassed by the amount of affection he had for the other man, and he did not intend to let Aaron know until it was something he understood for himself. But despite his rambling, Aaron seemed to understand. His expression warmed, and he touched Alexander lightly on the elbow.

“I’m glad to hear it. But you can’t pretend you wouldn’t enjoy the change of scenery.”

“I would. But I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

“Maybe I’m tired of hearing you complain about how dull things are here,” Aaron said with a smile. 

“I don’t complain that much,” Alexander argued, but he could not put his heart behind the argument. Aaron had a point. Laughing, Aaron put his hand on Alexander’s elbow and steered him towards the stable. The four horses within were four of the finest horses Alexander had ever seen. The most impressive was Aaron’s stallion. As far as Alexander could tell, the horse seemed pleased when Aaron came in: it certainly made enough noise, calming only when Aaron chuckled and walked over to it.

“He’s always been a drama queen,” Aaron said, his tone warm with affection.

“Didn’t you steal him?”

Aaron shrugged. “You could say that. My uncle sold him with false papers. I brought him home.”

“That’s still theft,” Alexander said, not without a hum of amusement in his tone. Aaron did not try to argue. He laughed instead and moved on to the next stall.

“I spoke to Theodosia, and she’s happy for you to borrow Apollo here. I wasn’t sure how confident you were on horseback, and he’s the gentlest ride here.”

“I can ride,” Alexander snapped, but Aaron did not look convinced. Alexander risked a sideways glance at the other two horses in the stable. Though smaller than Aaron’s own horse, neither of them looked particularly amenable to being ridden. Perhaps Aaron’s decision had been for the best. 

It took them an hour to prepare to leave the camp. For the first time, Alexander had full insight into what Aaron did before leaving. Alexander was given the exact same equipment as Aaron, down to the emergency rations that would be enough to last him a week if he got lost. The only exception was weaponry: while Aaron carried a pistol and rifle, Alexander was allowed only a small knife. Even the knife was ostensibly a tool, not a weapon - but even so, Alexander was surprised by the allowance. 

Once Alexander was in the saddle, Aaron approached with a bandana in hand. He seemed apologetic about it, but there was no hesitation as he knotted the material around Alexander’s eyes. He wrapped it twice, ensuring not one glimmer of light made it through. Alexander may as well have been blind. Under ordinary circumstances, Alexander might have taken offense to the blindfold, but with Aaron he found he had bigger problems. Though Aaron’s fingers were rough and calloused, his touch was gentle whenever his hands brushed Alexander’s skin. He took great care not to tangle the blindfold in Alexander’s hair. The entire time, Alexander was keenly aware of the warmth of Aaron’s body close to his. He could smell him, too, and not in an unpleasant way. Aaron was particular about his hygiene, and spent a significant proportion of his personal budget on his favourite cologne. It was a surprisingly flowery scent with an underlying spice that made Alexander’s head spin. He inhaled deeply and bit back a smile. It was only when Aaron pulled away that Alexander realized the smell was not all sourced from Aaron himself: it clung to the purple strip of fabric now wrapped around Alexander’s eyes. Alexander gulped. He would be surrounded by the sweet scent until Aaron saw fit to remove his blindfold. The idea might have been appealing if he had been left alone with the fabric and left to his own devices, but he did not relish the thought of a long ride in this condition.

“Just sit and relax,” Aaron advised. “We’re about to leave. I’ll let you know when we’re going to stop.”

Moments later, the horse under Alexander started to move forward. He reached forward and clutched the horse’s mane instinctively, gripping with his knees as if his life depended on it. He had not been prepared for how disorienting riding blindfolded would be. He grit his teeth and straightened his spine. No matter how uncomfortable he was, he refused to show any fear.

Aaron talked as they rode. At first Alexander was too disoriented to reply, but the sound of Aaron’s voice soothed him. Before long he began replying, and soon after that disagreeing. He could not see Aaron’s expression, but he heard a new warmth in Aaron’s voice when he started arguing. Alexander’s confidence grew. His arguments grew stronger, and the anxiety at being blindfolded started to fade. The conversation soon occupied the whole of Alexander’s attention. When Aaron finally called for a halt, Alexander was surprised to find three hours had passed. He held still as Aaron came close enough to untie the blindfold and reclaim his bandana. When Alexander expressed his surprise, Aaron laughed. The grin he sent Alexander was crooked and full of mischief.

“I can put the blindfold back on if you’d like.”

“I’ll cope without it,” Alexander said. He looked around, intending to get his bearings, but he had to admit Aaron had done a spectacular job of confusing his sense of direction. Alexander could not have guessed what direction the camp lay if his life had depended on it. The land did not seem so fertile as it had by the river, but plenty of stubborn plants made their home amongst the dust and rocks. 

Although they had been three hours on the road already, Aaron insisted they were behind schedule. The break Alexander had hoped for was not forthcoming. They did not break for lunch, either, instead snacking on what they could reach from their saddles. As the hours crept by, exhaustion settled into Alexander’s bones. He was familiar with riding, yes, but not for hours on end. The only redemption was Aaron’s conversation. He remained cheerful despite the long hours in the saddle. Alexander might have resented how effortless he made it look, if it were not for Aaron willingly sharing stories of when he had been less experienced. 

They did not come to a halt until evening started to fall. They made camp by a small creek, sheltered by an enormous and ancient tree. Shocks of pink and red stained the sky beyond its boughs, and Alexander found himself staring at the sunset. Aaron abandoned the campfire he was setting up and came to stand beside him. Alexander wondered at the gesture, and he was struck by the mad urge to grab Aaron’s hand. Before he could do anything so foolish, Aaron said,

“The sun sets to the west, you know.”

Alexander gave him a sideways look. “Of course. What of it?”

“Well,” Aaron said, turning away and crouching down to the ground. He said nothing more. Despite Alexander’s impatient gesture to continue, Aaron appeared entirely focused on building a fire. The non-sequitur puzzled Alexander. It was not uncommon for Aaron to make little sense, but he usually had the decency to explain himself. The topic did not come up again until they were lying down to sleep, when Aaron said,

“The rendezvous with my contact is due east of here.”

“Uh huh.”

“This creek runs south-east until it dries out. If you headed due south from there, you’d hit the west road from Burridge. All you’d have to do is follow it back east.”

Alexander lay silent. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. Was this a trap? The Burr he had once feared might have told him this to taunt him, or maybe to test him, but neither of those behaviours suited Aaron. His confusion only grew when Aaron continued,

“It would be a shame if you took Apollo and ran while I was asleep. I’d have no way of knowing until morning. I’d have no way of stopping you.”

“Uh. Right,” Alexander said. He watched Aaron roll over in the darkness, turning his back to Alexander. Was Aaron asking him to leave? It certainly seemed like he was being given that opportunity, but Alexander could not begin to fathom why. If Aaron wanted him gone, surely he would just say so.

The thought kept Alexander awake long into the night. He stared at the strange stars as if they held the answers he was looking for, all the while knowing he would not find it. Alexander knew what he was going to do. He was going to stay right where he was. Escaping no longer held the appeal it once had. He would have to explain where he had been, and why he no longer wanted to avenge Laurens. He would have to somehow convince Washington to leave Aaron alone, if not help him by taking Jefferson out of the picture. Worse, he would have to go back to the way things had been, knowing he had abandoned his new friends without even a word of goodbye. It was not a decision Alexander was willing to make. He would stay put, and when they returned to the camp he would convince Aaron to let him write to New York.

The open question was why.

It was a ludicrous decision. It was foolhardy and selfish at best, and downright idiotic at worst. But Alexander knew in his heart that he could not leave. His mind churned as he searched for logical reasons and came up blank. This was what he wanted. He could not deny that.

Only a few feet away, Aaron tossed and turned in his sleep. Alexander rolled on his side to watch him. While technically asleep, he seemed to be getting no more rest than Alexander himself. At one point his entire frame went stiff. For a moment Alexander thought he had been caught watching, but no: Aaron’s eyes were still shut. He let out a low moan that sent chills down Alexander’s spine. It was a low, foreboding sound, one that sent chills down Alexander’s spine. That was not a sound made by a man sleeping peacefully. It sounded more like the dying breath of someone mortally wounded. Alexander spent a few minutes debating what to do, but before he could decide on the best course of action, Aaron’s frame relaxed. Alexander let out a soft sigh of relief.

While Alexander drifted in and out of sleep peacefully, Aaron seemed to spend the entire night tormented by nightmares. Sometimes he just shifted in place, but more than once he sat bolt upright. The second time he did so he brought his hands up as he moved, as if shielding his face from an invisible blow. Both times Alexander tried speaking to him, but he got no response. Despite his activity, Aaron was fast asleep. 

The next morning, Aaron slumbered long past his usual dawn wakeup. When Alexander saw him lying still as a corpse, he felt his heart wrench at the idea of waking him up. He had no idea how long Aaron had been so still for, but he had lost most of the night to his dreams. Alexander would not be the one to deny him rest. Instead, he occupied himself with making breakfast. His first priority was coffee, which he set brewing in a pot over the fire he had built. Only after that did he contemplate the idea of solid food. They still had some fresh vegetables from the camp, as well as bread and an abundance of preserved meat and baked beans. The latter items would form the bulk of the meal, but Alexander also toasted the bread and left a piece of fruit out for Aaron. Fruit was the hardest thing to carry, but he deserved some respite after the night he had had. 

Alexander was halfway through his first cup of coffee when Aaron stirred. He pushed himself up on his arms and blinked owlishly at Alexander. “You’re still here.”

Uncertainty gripped Alexander’s heart. “Was I not meant to be?”

A sweet, affectionate smile spread over Aaron’s face as he shook his head and yawned. “I’m glad you’re here. But I wasn’t counting on it.”

“You were letting me escape.”

Aaron grimaced and nodded. He rubbed his hands over his face, and when he pulled them away his expression was carefully controlled again. The few precious minutes of openness were gone. Alexander found himself disappointed. He could have gotten used to that smile Aaron had given him when he first woke up. 

“Why?”

After just a moment of hesitation, Aaron said, “I’d like to think you’re my friend.”

“You are my friend,” Alexander said. Given their history, it was a bold statement. Neither of them underestimated the magnitude of the moment, and both took a moment to wonder at the certainty in Alexander’s tone. After a moment, Aaron pointed out,

“If I hold you hostage against your will, I’ve got no right to call myself your friend. But not everyone back home would feel safe releasing you yet, and I don't want to put you in a position where you had to lie. If you escaped --”

“You’d have plausible deniability,” Alexander concluded. Aaron nodded.

“It’s the same reason I won’t ask you to help me plan any criminal activity. I won’t arm you, either. So long as you’re unarmed, you can claim to be a victim. You can put your hand on a bible and swear under oath that you never had a means of defending yourself.”

“You don’t make that provision for the others,” Alexander pointed out.

“They chose to join me. They knew the risks when they signed up. I’m not going to ask you to make that choice.”

“I chose to stay here.”

“And maybe there’s people who’d question that,” Aaron said levelly. “But there’s just as many people who’d remember that you’re unarmed, lost, with no one for company but an infamous outlaw. And I gave you an explicit order to stay.”

“But -” Alexander started, but something about the look Aaron sent him silenced him. Instead of speaking, he forced himself to reflect on Aaron’s words. It was a flimsy excuse. Washington would not fall for it. No one who knew Alexander would believe it for even a second. But it was not, strictly speaking, untrue. Alexander did not know where he was. He was unarmed, and the world at large thought Aaron to be a vicious criminal. If Alexander was put under oath, he could say that much without committing perjury. 

“It’s a flimsy excuse,” he pointed out, but Aaron replied,

“It’s better than none.”

Alexander let out a sigh of defeat. “Fine. But you haven’t heard the last of this.”

“I assure you, Alexander, I’m not naive enough to think I’ve heard the end of your opinions on anything,” Aaron said with a hint of a laugh hidden in his tone. Alexander huffed. Although his understanding of Aaron was improving, there were times like this when the man baffled him. The comment could be an insult, a complaint, or fond affection. Alexander could not guess which. It seemed out of character for Aaron to insult him to his face, but Alexander had given him few reasons thus far to think of him with affection. 

The question of Aaron’s intent bothered Alexander for the rest of the day. He did not get much time to dwell on the matter, as Aaron himself provided ample distraction all day. Being on the road had put him in high spirits. He was much chattier than usual, providing Alexander with a wealth of information about his past. Much of it Alexander found troubling, but Aaron did not seem to agree. He laughed about how he had hidden food and books in his room for when his uncle locked him in, and boasted about how young he had learnt to move silently to avoid attention. Even if Alexander had lost his family at a young age, he was certain family was not meant to be like that.

As worrying as Aaron’s childhood was, the majority of the day was given over to laughter. In his good mood, Aaron was quick to laugh, and his laughter was infectious. Part of it could have been Alexander’s own mood. His ass ached from the saddle, but he could not deny the glee he felt at finally being free of the camp. A change of scenery did wonders to remove any lingering resentment he held towards the place. If only they could renovate it when they got back, Alexander thought wistfully. He could learn to live with isolation in a grand enough house. 

In the afternoon, the mountains seemed to close in around them a time went by. After some time, Alexander realized it was because they were getting lower, riding into a deep and narrow valley. They came to a halt in the valley. The spot Aaron chose looked almost indistinguishable from the rest of the landscape to Alexander, but Aaron seemed confident they were in the right spot. Alexander decided against complaining. If it meant getting out of the saddle, he was more than willing stop wherever Aaron pleased.

It was early evening by the time Aaron’s contact arrived. His friend turned out to be a woman, dressed much the same way as Aaron and Alexander. They embraced with enough familiarity that Alexander felt uncomfortable, his eyes darting off to the side. Instead of focusing on every dreadful sign of affection between them, Alexander’s mind skittered off track. In one abrupt moment, it became impossible to engage with the world. Instead, Alexander’s chased every idle thought to its completion, dreaming and destroying entire worlds as the slow seconds slipped by. Even when Aaron introduced him to his friend, Alexander did not pay enough attention to remember her name. He was too distracted by Aaron’s hand on her waist. Everything about Aaron’s manner from the easy smile to the casual invasion of space pointed to one thing, but Alexander refused to draw the obvious conclusion. After all the time it had taken him to like Aaron, he could not bear so quickly finding fault with him. 

The first item of business was the news they had come for: how Burridge was fairing, how friends and family were doing, and who was trying to move horses or cattle where. This last part was completely incomprehensible to Alexander, but he listened anyway. Some of it was idle gossip, but more than few times Aaron grilled his friend for details. While Aaron was distracted, Alexander made a note of the dates in his diary. He’d bet his last dollar that Aaron planned on stealing the livestock, and he could use the dates to cross reference Aaron’s absences from the camp.

Under different circumstances, Alexander would have been delighted to have a new conversation partner, but his dislike had set in quickly. It may not have been fairly earned, but it was earnest and stubborn. Alexander liked nothing about her, including her conversation. Feigning exhaustion, he found the softest patch of ground available and tried to sleep. To his surprise, sleep came quickly. As was usual these days, his dreams were dominated by thoughts of Aaron. Most of them featured Aaron in a bed, naked and grinding against Alexander, all enthusiasm and neediness. He was much more vocal than Aaron in reality, drowning Alexander in compliments and letting him know just how desperate he was for Alexander. When Alexander awoke, the first thing he was aware of was the need thrumming in his veins. Heat pooled in his belly, and he was intimately aware of all the ways his body had taken interest in the dreams. At first he lay still, keeping his eyes shut. As hard as the ground was beneath him, it was comfortable, and he was in no rush to confront his situation.

Then he heard a low moan in Aaron’s voice, much like the one in his dreams.

It was followed moments later by another moan, then a feminine giggle. Alexander’s eyes snapped open. The campsite was deserted. In the dark, the only clue he had was sound. The loudest sounds were their voices, but as he got closer his ears picked out the quieter, awkward sounds of skin slapping against skin. Aaron had his companion pushed up against a tree, his face buried against her chest. Even in the darkness, there could be no ambiguity as to their activities. Rage flooded Alexander’s mind. It took all his self control to retreat back to the campsite instead of interrupting. His thoughts turned bitter as jealousy and righteous fury tangled and fed off one another in his heart. _He_ wanted to be the one to take Aaron to bed, to push _him_ against a tree and learn what noises he could draw out from him. 

But as badly as Alexander coveted Aaron, there was another, deeper hurt. Alexander had believed in him. Even if their morals did not always align, Aaron had presented a clear code of ethics. It was most obvious with his opinion and treatment of women. As radical as many of his ideas were, they were well founded, and Alexander had taken them to heart. And yet here Aaron was, betraying Theodosia’s trust. The thought made Alexander’s heart ache with sympathy. She had never been kind to him, but he had seen how she softened around Aaron. He seemed to be the only man for whom she would let down her defences and relax, even laugh and love. She trusted him wholly. She loved him enough to choose life in a dingy camp in the middle of nowhere, despite what other opportunities she might pursue - and yet Aaron clearly did not respect that sacrifice. If he did, he would not be so willing to tumble into bed with a strange woman at the first opportunity. 

Alexander would have to tell her. He had no choice. He valued honesty, and made a bad liar at the best of times. He would not attempt to lie for Aaron’s sake, not when Aaron had brought this on himself. But there was no denying this would hurt Theodosia, and their daughter, and everyone in their little community.

The anger thrumming in his veins kept Alexander awake and restless for the rest of the night. He heard the others return, and Aaron settle down on the ground to sleep. A few hours later he heard the stranger rise and prepare to leave. She left at dawn, just as exhaustion overwhelmed Alexander’s fury and pulled him down to sleep. 

A mere two hours passed before he awoke to Aaron gently shaking his shoulder. Alexander blinked up at him, his mind sluggish from sleep. He mumbled something senseless, and a warm smile spread over Aaron’s face.

“There’s coffee by the fire, and I’ve packed up the rest of the campsite.”

Alexander nodded. As he staggered over to the fire, bits and pieces of the previous night began to creep back into his memory. The more he remembered, the more his mood soured. He said nothing to Aaron as he ate his breakfast, nor when Aaron asked him what was wrong. He did not speak when they extinguished the fire, nor when they mounted their horses to leave. For perhaps the first time in his life. Alexander was near silent for the entire day. It took effort, but he knew himself well. If he opened his mouth, he would confront Aaron - and that would be a poor strategic move. Aaron did not make his task easy. He tried in vain for the entire day to engage Alexander in conversation, to no avail. It was not until late afternoon that he gave up, falling into an uneasy silence. He did not try to push Alexander again until they came to a halt for the night. Once they had a fire going and their meal cooking, Aaron took a seat beside Alexander on the ground.

“I’m worried about you.”

Alexander grunted. Aaron leaned in a little, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows pulled together.

“You’re quiet. You’re never quiet. You even talk in your sleep, but I haven’t heard a word out of you all day. I know something is wrong, but I don’t know what. I’m worried about you, Alexander. Please let me help.”

It was the gentle concern in Aaron’s voice that snapped Alexander’s temper. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

Aaron stared at him in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” Alexander snarled. “You’re pathetic. You may have fooled me for a while there, but under it all you’re the amoral bastard I always knew you were.”

“You’re being absurd. If you have a problem with my behaviour, at least have the decency to tell me when and how I offended you,” Aaron huffed. He got to his feet and took two steps away from Alexander, but Alexander jumped up and followed.

“All that time you spent babbling about the respecting the rights of women, but you’re as bad as any other man. You couldn’t go three nights away with Theodosia without falling into bed with another woman.” 

Aaron’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. As far as Alexander was concerned, the response was as good as a confession. He advanced on Aaron, gesturing as he spoke.

“You’re a disgrace. Does everyone in the camp know you cheat on your partner? Or have you lied to them, too?”

Though he stayed silent for most of Alexander’s rant, he put up a hand to hold Alexander back as he advanced on him. It was only when Alexander marched right into his outstretched hand that he spoke.

“Alexander, please, calm yourself. If you’d be rational for just one moment, I can explain everything.”

“Oh, I just bet you can,” Alexander sneered. He considered pushing forward out of spite, but something in Aaron’s expression held him back. For the first time in a long time, Alexander was alarmed to find Aaron intimidating. It was difficult to say why, as Aaron did not seem to want to frighten him. There was a cold anger in his eyes, but there was something about his smile that looked alarmingly genuine.

“Listen to me. As pleased as I am to know you’ve taken our discussions to heart, you’ll embarrass yourself if you go to Theodosia raving about my behaviour.”

It was Alexander’s turn to look surprised, and he leaned his weight back on one foot. With his arms crossed over his chest, he echoed, “I’ll be embarrassed?”

“Very,” Aaron assured him. His smile widened a little, and he folded gracefully to the ground. When he patted the dirt beside him in invitation, it took only a second for Alexander to sit beside him. He was not sure he would believe a single word coming out of Aaron’s mouth - but if nothing else, Aaron had piqued his curiosity.

“For a start, I’d like to apologize for disturbing you last night. The others are used to me wandering off, but I suppose you must have wondered where I went.”

“The others. So they do know,” Alexander said flatly. That was not good news. He found himself especially alarmed at the idea of Jon Bellamy knowing. If he was willing to condone such behaviour, what might he do to his own partner? But in clear counterpoint to the sinking feeling in Alexander’s chest, Aaron chuckled.

“Yes. I’m afraid I’ve developed something of a reputation. I suspect it’s the motivation behind that silly book you found. Everyone knows - including Theodosia.”

The words rung hollow in Alexander’s ears. “If you expect that to exonerate you, you’ve got another think coming. How the hell did you trick Theodosia into tolerating that?”

Again, Aaron laughed. “I couldn’t trick Theodosia if my life depended on it. Not that it’s any of your business, but we have an arrangement. It was Theodosia’s idea. At first, I suspect she wanted to stop me getting foolish ideas about sex and ownership like her husband did, but it’s worked well for us.”

“You expect me to believe she wants you to have sex with every woman you come across?”

“She could do the same, if she wished. She normally abstains, but that’s a matter of taste rather than opportunity. But it’s important to her to have that freedom.”

Alexander’s mind reeled. His thoughts spiralled in a thousand different directions, each more confusing than the last. He could not even decide whether or not he believed Aaron. It sounded impossible, but there were no signs of dishonesty in his manner. His palms were open and faced outwards, and he met Alexander’s eyes without hesitation. But if Aaron was telling the truth, then it raised one very large question.

“I thought you loved her.”

“I do.”

Even as Aaron smiled, Alexander’s heart broke. To his surprise, it was not even the selfish despair at the confirmation he would never have Aaron for himself. Instead, he felt nothing but deep pity for him.

“How can you stand it?”

For the first time in their argument, there was a fraction of hesitation before Aaron replied. “Don’t tell Theodosia, but I hated it at first. Even though she was married, and I was the interloper, I wanted her for myself.”

Alexander nodded in agreement. Covetous greed was something he was intimately familiar with, and he knew exactly how painful it could be.

“Over time, I began to think of it differently. Yes, Theodosia might not be mine in the usual sense, but she is mine in every way that matters. I know that she loves me. I know the sacrifices she has made for me, and I know that she wants to spend her life with me. Given all that, it seems petty to demand more.”

“Most people would,” Alexander pointed out quietly.

“Maybe so. Maybe that’s why I’m the one lucky enough to know she will always come home to me,” Aaron replied. There was a note of wonder in his voice, as if he could not believe he was the one Theodosia had chosen.

The words made a certain kind of sense to Alexander, although he was not sure he agreed with him. He had always been possessive of his lovers, even when he had known they would part after just the one night. But there was also a previously unknown part of him that found the idea appealing. He had never been too sure how marriage actually worked. In the short term, it made plenty of sense, but he could not imagine going years or decades bedding the one woman. The solution presented by Aaron evaded that - but at a high price. 

After a long silence, another thought occurred to Alexander. “I’m still telling Theodosia.”

“By all means,” Aaron said. “But I’d appreciate it if you did so quietly. You’ve caused enough gossip about my sex life as it is.”

The comment was doubtlessly meant as a joke about the book, but it still caused blood to rush to Alexander’s cheeks. The laugh he forced sounded painfully fake, even to his own ears. He found himself pathetically grateful that Aaron did not question it. They changed the topic after that, and Alexander began to prepare himself for facing Theodosia when they returned.


	13. Tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am the busiest person on the planet. sleep is a distant memory. but i wrote the outline for this story so i have every intent of continuing until it's done, even if updates do take a while.
> 
> thank you to everyone who leaves comments, you are the reason I push myself to refine these ideas before sharing. i love you all

Upon their return to the camp, Aaron and Alexander were greeted with rather more exuberance than Alexander thought the short trip warranted. The hug from Laurens was tight enough to knock the wind out of him. After a few moments, Alexander gave up and thumped Laurens on the back to get him to withdraw. When he did, Laurens kept a hand on his shoulder and grinned at him.

“I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”

“I’m a prisoner, remember?” Alexander said. “Aaron’s not going to risk me leading the police back here.”

“You expect me to believe you wouldn’t have tried to escape if you wanted?” Laurens asked, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms over his chest. Alexander shifted his weight and avoided his eyes.

“Well, Aaron’s armed. And we’ve all heard what he’s capable of.”

To Alexander’s surprise, the words made Laurens laugh. “That’s one of Aaron’s lines if I’ve ever heard one, but I can take a hint. I’m just glad to have you home.”

“It’s good to be home,” Alexander admitted. That earned him another hug, no less tight and fierce than the last. The words felt like a confession. As far as Alexander was aware, this was the first time he had admitted aloud that he thought of their little camp as home. Judging from the delight Laurens showed at the pronouncement, the significance of the remark was not lost on his friend. Two full hours passed before Alexander was able to escape his eager chatter. When he did, he immediately set about finding Theodosia. As much as he dreaded the conversation, he would not risk being complicit in Aaron’s possible deceit. 

Unsurprisingly, Aaron had already gone to Theodosia by the time Alexander tracked them down. They sat in Theodosia’s garden with their daughter, surrounded by blooming flowers and abundant vegetables. They had made no attempt to seek privacy, but Alexander still felt like an intruder. The way Theodosia leaned against Aaron would be improper in polite society, but it had become entirely acceptable here. The local way of thinking had infected Alexander thoroughly, as he no longer saw any problems with the casual touch between the pair. It was hard to be judgemental when it clearly caused such bliss. Theodosia seemed to be talking about the garden. At one point she pointed at a nearby bush, and Aaron reached out to pluck a flower for her and tucked it into her hair. It was hard to imagine a happier couple.

So of course, it fell to Alexander to ruin the scene.

It took a great deal more courage than he had anticipated to walk down the garden path to the pair. After all, whatever happened next was not his fault. If Aaron had told him the truth, it would be awkward, but things would only end in disaster if Aaron had lied. Alexander could not be held responsible. And in Theodosia’s place, Alexander thought, he would rather have the truth.

“Alexander. To what do we owe the pleasure?” she asked as he approached. The words made Aaron jump, and Alexander struggled not to laugh at the shock on his face. He had been so enraptured by Theodosia he had not even noticed Alexander approach. As entertaining as it was, it took the wind out of Alexander’s sails. He faltered.

“I would have thought Aaron would have told you by now.”

“I got distracted,” Aaron admitted, looking almost sheepish. Theodosia’s eyebrows shot up, and she exchanged a look with her partner. 

“It became prudent to tell Alexander about the flexibility of our arrangement.”

“Oh?” Theodosia asked. She hid her mouth behind a hand, but Alexander could hear the smile in her voice when she asked, “Did you fin-”

“No,” Aaron said. The tone was much harsher than any other Alexander had heard Aaron use towards Theodosia, but she seemed unperturbed. She chuckled, taking Aaron’s hand in her own and squeezing it.

“Alright. Then why?”

“Despite the illegal nature of your relationship, I had assumed you were, effectively, married. Aaron’s words, and his behaviour towards the alleged informant we met, would suggest otherwise.”

“Oh, dear,” Theodosia said, her voice rich with amusement. “Who was it this time?”

“So it’s true?” Alexander wanted to know. The smile on Theodosia’s face faded a little, but she did not look upset. There was something in her gaze that made Alexander feel vulnerable, as if she could see right through him. Worse, he suspected she guessed more of his thoughts than he would like.

“Why do you care?”

Alexander swallowed heavily. “I care about the truth. I’m not willing to lie to cover Aaron’s ill deeds.”

“Then it is fortunate that there are no ill deeds to cover for,” Theodosia said. At Alexander’s obvious skepticism, she sighed. “You’re young, Alexander.”

Alexander bristled. Before she could get another word out, he said, “I’m a month older than Aaron.”

“Like I said. You’re young, and your experience in these matters is narrow. There are many ways to be happy with another person. The one Aaron and I have found is perhaps unorthodox, but it works. It makes us both happy. That is the only thing that matters.”

There was enough certainty in those last words to render her tone sharp. It was so stern that Aaron squeezed her hand gently and murmured, “Easy, love.” What he said after that, Alexander had no idea: Aaron leaned in close to murmur something in Theodosia’s ear, something undoubtedly about Alexander. When her attention turned back to Alexander, the expression on her face looked more natural and relaxed than before.

“Put it out of your mind, Alexander. You’ve done what you needed to do, and you’ll sleep easier if you stop thinking about what Aaron gets up to at night,”she told him. From the way Aaron ducked his head in embarrassment, that was not a verbatim translation of what he had said. There was some hidden joke there that Alexander was missing. It was not just Aaron’s reaction: there was a hum of amusement in Theodosia’s voice, and her eyes kept flicking between Aaron and Alexander. Unsure of how to respond, Alexander made his excuses and beat a hasty retreat. The next few times they met things were awkward, but not unbearable. Bit by bit, the awkwardness faded, until they were at ease around one another once more. 

Now that he had decided to stay in the camp (at least for the time being), Alexander’s goals shifted. He had two objectives: contact Washington, and stop Jefferson. In his mind, the two were connected. No matter how close their friendship had been, surely Washington would not turn a blind eye to Jefferson’s criminal activity. The first was also the most urgent option. Alexander could imagine all too clearly what Washington’s grief might look like. Even if he could not help, he deserved to know Alexander was alive and well. 

Contacting Washington would not be simple. Despite their growing friendship, Aaron had not offered to help Alexander contact the outside world. Worse, Alexander suspected he would consider it an issue that affected the camp, and hence something he could not decide on alone. Alexander would need allies. And whether or not he was likely to agree with Alexander, his most critical ally would be Laurens. It was Laurens who had taught the camp that the name Washington was something to fear. A change of heart from him would seem more credible than Alexander’s word alone.

He waited until he had the whole of Laurens’ attention to put his plan into action. He disliked the delay, but comforted himself with the thought that it was what Washington would tell him to do. A hasty move now could bring the whole operation down. So he waited. It was not until Aaron took Bellamy and some of the others on a cattle rustling expedition that Alexander made his move. He prepared two large mugs of coffee and hunted his friend down. Laurens set aside his work immediately, and the two of them found a quiet place to sit and talk. To Alexander’s delight, the topic of New York came up naturally. He used it as a segue to more serious topics.

“I can’t believe they think I’m dead.”

The smile on Laurens’ face faded, and he stared into his mug of coffee. “You get used to it.”

“Did you? Didn’t you miss us?” Alexander asked. Laurens hesitated.

“I missed you. Lafayette, sometimes. That bakery round the corner from our apartment, and that stray cat that liked the kitchen windowsill.” He thought for a second before adding, “Plumbing.”

“And that’s really it?” Alexander marveled. The thought stung, but he was included in the list of things Laurens had missed, so it did not cut as deeply as it might have. Even so, he could not imagine being so blasé about the life they had lived in New York. Laurens gave him a wan smile.

“Must we go over this again? I can’t pretend to feel otherwise, and you can’t help but take offense.”

“I still can’t understand,” Alexander said stubbornly. “We mourned you. All of us, not just me. I know you had your problems with Washington, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t care. The same goes for the rest of them.”

“They weren’t mourning me. Just the person they thought I was.”

It was the same weary, tired argument they had had a hundred times - but this time, Alexander had a new point to make.

“That doesn’t make the pain any less real. Lafayette still drank himself into a stupor. Washington was more shaken than I’d ever seen him. I know you didn’t mean to, but you put us through hell.” Alexander paused, letting the words sink in before he continued. His words seemed to be working. Laurens could not meet his eye, and he had brought his legs up against his chest so he could hug them tight. He looked miserable. Feeling triumphant, Alexander gave his finishing argument. “And now they’re going through it again.”

The guilt and uncertainty in Laurens’ face vanished. In its places settled a flat, angry glare. “No.”

Thrown off beat, Alexander gawped at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work. If Washington found us here, you’re the only one that would leave this camp alive.”

“He’d never hurt you,” Alexander protested. “He’d only go after - criminals.”

“Like I’d just sit there and let that happen,” Laurens said with a snort. Despite his easy dismissal, his voice shook as he continued. “And he wouldn’t stop with Aaron. He’d go after Bells, too, and Hercules and Maria and all the rest. And me. Even if I wasn’t breaking half a dozen laws each night, I’ll be damned before I let someone come in and hurt my friends.”

Alexander stared at him in disbelief and dismay. “You really believe he’d do that.”

Laurens nodded. They had come to an impasse. Alexander refused to believe a word of Laurens’ prophecy, but there was no argument he could make to win the day. Laurens’ opinion was not based in logic, but in fear. Desperately, Alexander tried a more emotional appeal.

“I just want them to know I’m alive.”

“If Washington knew you were being kept hostage, he’d be on the next train headed our way,” Laurens pointed out. He had a point. For reasons he did not understand, Washington had taken a shine to Alexander, and would no doubt move heaven and earth to bring him home safe. There was only one point Alexander could plausibly argue.

“I’m not a hostage.”

“Oh, so you’d rather tell him the truth? That you’re cosying up with a band of criminals?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“No,” Laurens said. He made eye contact, staring Alexander down. “But it’s the truth. Even if you want to deny it when it comes to the rest of us, you know what he’d say about Aaron.”

Alexander’s heart sank. He had not quite figured out how to approach the topic of Aaron with Washington. His plan, such as it was, had been to deal with Jefferson and persuade Aaron to live an honest life before ever letting them meet. If they met now, it would end in bloodshed. 

“I’ll figure it out,” he said, but Laurens was already shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, Alexander,” he said, and the worst part was he clearly meant it. His voice was heavy with shame and guilt, and his head hung low. “You know I’d help you with anything else. But you’re asking me to do something suicidal.”

Silence stretched out between them for almost a full minute. The entire time, Alexander’s mind whirled, scrambling desperately for a solution. There was none. The silence grew more and more uncomfortable as time passed. After a few moments, Alexander said in a small voice,

“I hate arguing with you.”

“That makes two of us,” Laurens said. A hint of a smile crept back onto his face, weak and uncertain. “Truce?”

Alexander hesitated. “I’m not going to stop trying to contact him.”

“And I’m not going to change my mind,” Laurens agreed. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

For a moment, Alexander wanted to insisted that was exactly what it meant. But the bitter urge faded when he considered the full implications of his desire. He sighed, then nodded. The smile on Laurens’ face strengthened. When Alexander held out his hand for a handshake, Laurens used the opportunity to pull him into a hug. Alexander sighed, but begrudgingly returned it. He may be angry, but he did want to keep Laurens as a friend - and he would sulk terribly if Alexander pulled away. He had long since learnt that physical affection was something Laurens needed, and he had given up questioning why. It had been a surprise at first, after spending most of his life alone, but he had come to depend on it. 

Although Alexander did not give up on winning Laurens over, he decided to try a different target. If Laurens would not help him, then Alexander’s best bet would be to get Aaron on his side. Despite their rough start, Aaron had become one of Alexander’s closest friends in the camp. He was also the most influential person there. Even if he would not make the decision himself, if he publicly declared support, Alexander would be sure to win. 

When Aaron returned home, Alexander waited two whole days before he raised the topic. He and Aaron had wound up responsible for the day’s water, so they were filling buckets and bottles at the river. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Alexander said carefully, “I’d like to contact Washington.”

Aaron put his bottle down and sat back on his heels. “I was wondering how long it would take you to ask.”

“Laurens told you?” Alexander asked, dismayed, but Aaron shook his head.

“No. But it was obvious you would want to contact him sooner or later,” Aaron said. He stared at the water, his expression unreadable. “It’s a risk. You know that.”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

Aaron let out a noncommittal hum. After a long pause, he said, “I know you’re an honest man, but would you consider lying to your friend?”

Alexander looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. In response, Aaron sighed. “I thought not. It’s a pity. You’d have an easier time convincing Laurens if your friend had no reason to think this place existed.”

“What about convincing you?” Alexander wanted to know. 

“If you and Laurens can agree on a safe message to send, I see no reason to prevent you from contacting your friends,” Aaron said. Each word was delivered slowly and carefully, as if Aaron was wary of the reaction he would get. The words should have delighted Alexander. Instead, his heart sank. Having promised not to raise the topic any longer, Alexander was trapped. However wounded he was by Laurens’ decision, he would not betray his promise not to push things further. He would not ask Laurens to change his mind. He explained the situation to Aaron, although he did not dare to think it would change anything. There was a long pause, and Alexander sunk into deep despair. Aaron sighed. 

"I’ll talk to him.”

The words startled Alexander out of his reverie. He stared up at Aaron in confusion. “Why?”

“If you hadn’t already asked him, you wouldn’t still be sitting here,” Aaron said with a crooked smile. “I’m not going to tell him what to think. But I do want him to think.”

The answer did not go even halfway to satisfying Alexander, but for once he kept his mouth shut. If this was his chance to get what he wanted, he was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. This was the only clear path to contacting Washington. While Alexander could try to smuggle a message out, it would be easier by far if he had help.

For the next twenty or so hours, anticipation and anxiety flooded Alexander’s body. Every time he saw Aaron and Laurens together, his anxiety spiked. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, and his heart would start pounding rapidly in his chest. Every time he caught Aaron’s eyes, Aaron would shake his head ever so slightly. 

“Not yet,” he would say. There was something about his calm manner that bordered on dismissive, and it took all of Alexander’s self control not to take offense. Couldn’t Aaron see how serious this was? More than once he considered grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him until he came to his senses - but every time, he forced himself to stop. He found other things to do with his hands. Sometimes he was productive, helping with meal preparation or Hercules’ sewing, but more often than not he ended up chewing his nails until he drew blood. It was a disgusting habit, he knew, but it calmed him like nothing else. The sharp sting of pain grounded him. 

The night passed slowly. Alexander slept in fitful bursts, waking up over a dozen times. Each time he would toss and turn, unable to get back to sleep. He gave up when the sun started to peek over the horizon. For the first time, Alexander found himself the first one awake. With nothing better to do, he collected some water from the river and started a fire to make some coffee. His hands trembled as he spooned the brown powder into the pot.

The water had barely begun to boil when he heard movement off to the side. Aaron stood a few paces from the fire, staring at Alexander in sleepy confusion. Much like Alexander, he looked exhausted. It was not hard for Alexander to guess why. It had, apparently, been Aaron’s turn to take care of little Theo for the night, and the effort had taken its toll. She may be sleeping peacefully in Aaron’s arms, but she had not slept through the night.

“You should go back to sleep.”

Instead of a verbal answer, Aaron just grunted. There was no smile, no eloquent response, only the barest possible acknowledgement that Alexander had spoken. It was so unlike Aaron’s ordinary behaviour that Alexander struggled not to laugh. He patted a patch of ground behind him. Wordlessly, Aaron took the hint and sat down beside him. After a few moments, he spoke, his voice rough and low from sleep.

“I spoke to Laurens. I can’t make any promises, but he’s considering it.”

Relief slammed into Alexander with the force of a freight train. His mind whirled, and even sitting down, his knees felt wobbly. “How? He wouldn’t listen to me.”

“You’re pushy,” Aaron said, the last word almost becoming lost in a wide yawn. “And both of you are stubborn fools. Even if we reach an agreement, both of you are going to hate me for it.”

“You’re getting me what I want. Why would I hate you?”

“I’m getting you what you need,” Aaron corrected. He accepted the coffee Alexander passed him with a nod of gratitude and paused to take a sip. “Your friend will know you’re alive, and safe. But he can’t know anything about this place.”

Alexander’s heart sank.“You want me to lie.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy,” Aaron said. 

“I hate lying.”

“That much is obvious,” Aaron snorted. “It never even occurred to you to lie your way out of here, did it?”

Alexander paused to consider it. All along, Alexander’s captivity had been the product of fear, not violence or hatred. If he had convinced them he would keep this place a secret, he had no doubt Aaron would have escorted him to town the minute he was fit to ride. All he had to do was lie. And Aaron was right: he had never even thought of it. He could come up with a hundred reasons not to, but at the end of the day, he could not have denied the truth. He shifted his weight, uncomfortable with the sudden realization. 

“There were other reasons to be honest.”

“Of course. But that wasn’t what drove your behaviour,” Aaron said. Even with heavy-lidded eyes and the laziness of sleep still clinging to his voice, he was alarmingly observant when he wanted to be. Alexander considered it one of his worst qualities. 

“Your honesty will get you into trouble one day. You need to learn to work around the truth.”

“You still want me to lie.”

“I want a peaceful life one day. I don’t want to lose that because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut,” Aaron said bluntly. After a pause, he admitted, “And I don’t want you to get yourself into trouble. The truth can be dangerous.”

“Why one day?” Alexander wanted to know. “Why not now? You could give it all up. You’ve got the money.”

“Without my parents’ will, I don’t have a dollar to my name - and I can’t go after that until I’ve dealt with Jefferson.”

As Alexander pondered those words, Aaron drained the last of his coffee and got to his feet. By the time he returned, other people had started to stir. As much as Alexander had come to relish time with Aaron, he found himself relieved. He needed time to process, and to plan: what to say to Washington, and how to free Aaron from Jefferson’s bargain. Then, once Aaron had given up a life of crime, Alexander could decide what to do next.


	14. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus christ it's been a month and I haven't even gotten to any major scenes yet

It took two weeks to agree on a letter to send Washington. It was the most difficult letter of Alexander’s life. He bickered and argued with Laurens about every last word. For the most part they were left alone, but whenever their voices raised too loud Aaron and Bellamy would appear out of nowhere. They pulled the two of them apart and soothed their tempers, before the whole process started over again. The final letter was much shorter than Alexander would have liked - but, as Aaron kept reminding him, it got the job done. Washington would not go through the emotional turmoil Alexander had endured.

The letter opened plainly, stating that Alexander was alive and well. He did not say ‘safe’ or ‘unharmed’, as neither of those were strictly true. He admitted to losing the duel with Aaron, although he did not use Aaron’s name, and he was quick to reassure Washington he had recovered. To explain his disappearance and absence, he claimed he had stumbled in to a plot much bigger than any of them had realized. That much was true, if he considered Jefferson’s blackmail a plot. To preserve the safety of himself and the ‘kind strangers’ who had helped him heal after the duel, Alexander had been forced to conceal himself. 

His explanation was followed by several paragraphs expressing how badly he missed New York and his friends. That much went through almost unedited. Laurens had barely been able to read it, and Alexander had taken a cruel pleasure he had not expected in the unhappiness on his face. When he handed it back, he tried to speak - but Alexander did not let him get past his name.

“You could have avoided this,” he said bluntly. He waited a beat and watched his friend flinch before conceding, “I’m not unhappy here. But I won’t apologize for being open about the price I’ve paid for this. I miss Washington. I miss Lafayette. And I’m not going to put them through the hell you put me through.”

Laurens flinched again. “I’m _sorry_. I had no idea.”

“You should have.”

Laurens nodded miserably. “Maybe so. But I didn’t.”

His tone was so lonely and miserable that something in Alexander broke. He put the letter aside and reached out to pull his friend into a hug. Laurens clung to him, as if convinced Alexander would slip away given the chance. When Alexander pulled back, he looked Laurens in the eye.

“I don’t want to make you miserable - but I need to you to understand. I wanted to kill Aaron. I tried to kill him, and he nearly killed me in response. We both could have died. If I’d known the truth from the start, I never would have tried to hurt him.”

“So we’d better send this letter soon,” Laurens said, tapping the desk. “We don’t want Washington making the same mistake.”

The very idea of Aaron facing Washington made Alexander’s stomach clench in fear. An image lodged in his mind of Washington standing over Aaron’s lifeless corpse, grimly satisfied with a job well done. No matter how hard he tried, Alexander could not shake the image from his mind. There was no time for delay. He placed the letter in an envelope and sealed it before carefully writing out Washington’s address. Once that was done, he dragged Laurens outside with him to find Aaron. They found him in Theodosia’s garden, pulling weeds under her watchful guidance.

“You need to get this letter to Washington immediately,” Alexander said by way of introduction. Aaron sat back on his heels and looked up at them.

“You’ve come to an agreement, then?”

“There’s no details that could threaten us,” Laurens confirmed. “And no one would doubt the letter was written by Alexander.”

Aaron eyed the heavy envelope with suspicion, but after a few moments he nodded. “We’ll set out the first thing tomorrow.”

“Today,” Alexander insisted, but Aaron shook his head.

“No. The letter won’t get there any faster for leaving today. We can leave tomorrow, and still have plenty of time to have it on the next train headed for New York.”

The words took the wind out of Alexander’s sails. It hadn’t occurred to him that Aaron’s motives might be driven by something as simple as a timetable. Once he allowed for it, Alexander had to admit he had a point. No matter how urgent the situation was, there was no faster way to get the letter to New York than by train, and the trains would not bend to Alexander’s will. He changed tack. 

“You said ‘we’. Who are you taking with you?”

Aaron’s eyebrows pulled together sightly in surprise. “You, of course. I thought that much was obvious.”

“You mean that trip wasn’t just a once off?” Alexander asked hopefully. When Aaron nodded in agreement, Alexander’s face split into a wide grin. He may be happy in the camp, but that did not mean he didn’t get bored. Not even Laurens could keep him entertained indefinitely. When Alexander left to pack his things, he did so with a bounce in his step. Laurens did not seem half so excited.

“You’ll come home though, right?”

“Of course,” Alexander said, as though it were that obvious. “You’re here, and Aaron needs my help.”

“With what? Accounting?”

“That, too,” Alexander said absently. “But I was talking about Jefferson.”

There was a sharp intake of breath behind him. “Alexander. Promise me you’re not going to do anything stupid.”

Alexander hesitated, halfway through folding a shirt. “You and I have very different definitions of stupid.”

“Don’t go after Jefferson.”

“Someone needs to stop him.”

“You’ll die,” Laurens said bluntly. “Haven’t you been listening to Bells and Aaron? Jefferson’s not stupid enough to agree to a duel in the middle of an ordinary town. You - “

Laurens’ voice got louder with each word. After just a few seconds, Alexander put his things aside and pulled him into a hug. Emotions may not have been Alexander’s strong suit, but he could tell when his friend was afraid. He considered pointing out that fear had only ever led Laurens to grave mistakes, but decided against it. Although fear had driven Laurens to ridiculous extremes, Alexander could not pretend his fears had ever been unfounded. There may be something to his grave warnings about Jefferson.

“I won’t do anything without talking to you or Aaron first,” he said. The sigh of relief that came from Laurens caused something like guilt to pull at Alexander’s conscience. He knew all too well what it was like to lose a friend. Even if Laurens was responsible for that, Alexander never wanted to inflict the same fear on him. 

The next day, Alexander rose at dawn. To his dismay, the trip would not be just him and Aaron: Bellamy was to come as well. He told himself his disappointment was for Laurens’ sake, but deep down he knew better. As much as Alexander liked Bellamy, he had been hoping for more time spent with Aaron. 

As before, they blindfolded Alexander for the trip out of the camp. Aaron was apologetic about doing so, but Alexander did not protest. It was the same pleasant torture as last time, with the scent of Aaron’s cologne clinging to the blindfold. If they kept this up, Alexander was going to develop some kind of complex. If he did, he would be sure to blame Aaron. 

It took longer than last time to remove the blindfold. The observation surprised Alexander. Was he being kept blind for Bellamy’s sake, or was there something else at play?

It was not long after they took the blindfold off that Alexander began to wish for it back. It had not occurred to him on his last trip that Aaron might have been taking it easy on him. With Bellamy present, he set a brutal pace. The worst part, Alexander thought, was not how difficult it was to endure the long hours on horseback. The worst part was how easy Aaron and Bellamy clearly found it. It was only when they remembered Alexander that they would call for a halt, stopping for just long enough for the shooting pain in Alexander’s thighs to take precedence over the dull ache of the bruises on his ass.

By the time they made camp, Alexander was too exhausted to even talk. He was all but useless when it came to setting up for the night, but he took comfort in the thought that his uselessness was not a product of his exhaustion, but his companion’s efficiency. Aaron and Bellamy had setting up camp down to an art form. They weaved in and out of each other’s space without even looking. As he watched, Alexander felt a stab of envy. This was what the friendship of a lifetime looked like. They knew each other and their habits well enough to interact without even needing to explicitly communicate. It was only when Aaron sat down to start the fire that he remembered Alexander. He patted the dirt next to him. Alexander walked over and took his seat, feeling vaguely sheepish about not helping.

“Should I prepare dinner?”

“You’re dead on your feet,” Aaron said. There was a hum of amusement in his voice that made Alexander scowl, but Aaron had a point. Alexander was too tired to even argue. He barely managed to keep his eyes open through dinner, and he yawned whenever he tried to speak. It was not until he woke the next morning that he examined the camp. Even the word camp was generous: it was a relatively flat area centered around the fire, with two places cleared for sleeping. Alexander occupied one space. Both Bellamy and Aaron occupied the other, lying together as close as lovers. The sight brought an ugly tangle of emotion to Alexander’s chest. His own jealousy was sharp enough, but it turned to rage when he thought of Laurens. Whatever arrangement Aaron may have with Theodosia, Alexander was certain Bellamy had no such arrangement with Laurens. If Bellamy had been unfaithful, Laurens would be heartbroken.

As tempting as it was to stride over and slap Bellamy in the face, Alexander forced himself to stop and think. The last time Alexander had jumped to conclusions about Aaron, he had been wrong. What evidence did he have this time? It was more than simply the proximity between Bellamy and Aaron. Alexander had shared beds with friends for warmth before, and he had never ended up as thoroughly intertwined as they had. But he had not seen them behave inappropriately, nor had they shown any intention to. 

While Alexander was puzzling it out, Bellamy opened his eyes. He tried to move but gave up almost immediately with a weary sigh. There would be no getting up without waking Aaron, and Bellamy apparently had no plans of doing that. When he caught Alexander staring, he let out another sigh.

“Go on, then.”

Alexander’s heart pounded in his chest. Rather than reveal his suspicions, he admitted, “I don’t understand.”

“You’ve been out with Aaron before. You’ve seen what he’s like at night.”

Memories from his last trip with Aaron surged to the forefront of Alexander’s mind. Aaron tossing and turning. Aaron mumbling in his sleep. A peculiar breathy noise that might have been crying, if Alexander had dared to wonder about it at the time. All in all, Aaron sleeping had been a noisy and restless affair. At length, Alexander nodded.

“He doesn’t get nightmares when he’s not alone. Back home he has Theodosia, but out here it’s harder. He complains every time, but it’s the only way to get him to sleep.”

“What did he do before Theodosia?” Alexander asked curiously. Bellamy gave him a wan smile.

“We’d sign on for jobs herding cattle or horses that would be overnight trips just to get him a decent night’s sleep. Even if I’d broken into his house, I doubt it would’ve helped. There were good reasons for him to be afraid.”

“He deserves better,” Alexander said. The thought of Aaron young and afraid was enough to make his heart ache. He remembered how bad the nightmares had been after the hurricane had swept through his small town. It had been two full years before Alexander had slept through a full night. Even now, they would sometimes come back: sometimes because of some clear trigger, and sometimes for no reason at all. But at least Alexander knew what it was like to live without nightmares. From what Bellamy said, Aaron had scarcely known a single night of peace. 

He and Bellamy sat in silence after that. Before long, Alexander busied himself with preparing a breakfast of baked beans and toast. By the time Aaron woke, he was nearly done. He watched Aaron’s response to Bellamy as closely as he could without being caught. It was clear when Aaron became aware of his surroundings, switching from loose limbed relaxation to tension in a fraction of a second. He pulled away from Bellamy carefully: not surprised, but definitely sheepish. But as unhappy as he seemed to be, he did mutter a quiet ‘thank you’ to Bellamy before shuffling over to join Alexander by the fire. 

It took three more days for the trio to reach their destination. On the second day, Alexander realized with a jolt of surprise that they had come out north of the mountains. Burridge, Michel’s Creek and all the towns Alexander knew had been on the south side. He had seen no need to look north of the mountains, because conventional wisdom said there was no way to cross the mountains. The nearest known passes were miles away in either direction. He had long known Aaron had his own ways through the mountains, but it was another thing to see it in practice. 

When they finally rode into town, Alexander found himself taken off guard at the size. After long weeks surrounded by no more than a dozen people, a town of a few dozen seemed huge. Buildings seemed larger than he remembered. They looked more solid, too, made of sturdy stone instead of the flimsy wood they used back at the hideout. Alexander took everything in with wide eyes. 

To Alexander’s surprise, the tavern owner recognized Aaron on sight. He asked about his work, although from the conversation Alexander quickly surmised he was not talking about theft. The man seemed to be under the impression that Aaron worked as an ordinary cowboy, herding cattle and horses for whoever paid the highest fee. Alexander was introduced as the same, fresh from his first job. This seemed to amuse the man, who asked a few pointed questions about endurance and experience that had Alexander flushing with anger. How the man knew about his struggles with the long days on horseback, he had no idea, but he intended to defend himself - at least, until Aaron interrupted with a smile and a smooth laugh. As he led the way to their shared room, Aaron said quietly,

“Don’t take it personally. He’d say the same to anyone else with your experience. I had it just as bad when I started.”

“But you grew up out here,” Alexander pointed out, confused. Aaron flashed a smile, but there was no joy behind it.

“If you saw a young man from a wealthy family try to take a job as a day laborer, what would you make of it?”

A number of scenarios jumped to Alexander’s mind, none of them kind. “I’d assume the worst. So they know who you are?”

“If I’d lied, I would have been caught. This was safer,” Aaron said with a shrug. “And so long as I’m alive, my uncle can’t claim my inheritance. I have to be seen.”

“That’s a difficult line to walk,” Alexander observed. Aaron did not say anything, but he did give a tiny nod of acknowledgement.

The room they had rented was small and crammed with furniture. A large bed took up the centre of the room, with a narrow single bed braced against the opposite wall. There was scarcely enough room for the furniture, let alone any guests. They left their belongings piled on the centre of the bed and ventured out into town. 

Their first stop was the post office, where Aaron paid for express postage on Alexander’s letter. There was a peculiar queasy feeling in Alexander’s stomach as he handed the envelope over. It felt strange to be sending a letter rather than going himself. He did not regret his decision, nor did he intend to change it - but that did not mean it was comfortable.

For the rest of the afternoon, they explored the luxuries offered by the small town. This included perusing the general store, reading every newspaper they could get their hands on and eating themselves sick at the bakery. Even if the bakery was not as good as Alexander’s favourite place in New York, it was a treat. There was no oven in the camp, making baked goods a rarity. Alexander made himself sick on fresh bread and sweet little cakes topped with cream. Once the trio had eaten their fill, they sat in the sunlight and watched the world drift by. They passed the evening in much the same manner, drinking and smoking on the saloon’s balcony. They did not dare get roaring drunk in town, but they were still pleasantly tipsy by the time they ventured to bed. 

The narrow single bed in the corner creaked ominously when Alexander started to put his weight on it. He hesitated, lifting his knee off the bed. Both Aaron and Bellamy stared at him. Slowly, he tried it again, lowering one knee onto the bed. The same dreadful moan shuddered out of the wood, and he felt the bed dip under his weight.

“There’s room for one more here,” Bellamy said. Alexander’s head shot up. Aaron had already settled in the center of the bed, but he nodded when Alexander looked over. After only a moment of hesitation, Alexander scooted around the edge of the bed to take a seat by Aaron’s side. He was greeted with a tired smile. 

There was not enough room on the bed for the three of them to have their own space, but they made do. There was a solid inch of space between Alexander and Aaron. Alexander lay awake for an hour obsessing over that space. It would be so easy, he thought, to reach out and pull Aaron close, blame it on sleep. But however badly he ached to do so, he did not. To pull Aaron close with such intentions would be a breach of faith, and Alexander was unwilling to throw away the trust he had been shown.

It was, therefore, to his great shame that he woke up with Aaron in his arms. The first few moments of wakefulness were delightful. He had Aaron held close to his chest, Aaron’s face hidden against his neck. With Aaron asleep and apparently content, it was all too easy for Alexander’s mind linger in the pleasant space between dreaming and waking. It was only as his mind plunged towards awareness that guilt started to seep in at the edges of his consciousness. Yes, Alexander had thought about this, but he had not intended to do it. Aaron, he was sure, would not approve. 

“You talk in your sleep.”

Alexander went stiff. When he dared look up, Bellamy was awake and watching him. For reasons Alexander could not understand, there was an amused grin on his face. 

“John did warn me. You can carry on a whole conversation, you know. And you were very unhappy when Aaron tried to get up.”

The world faded out for what felt like an age. When it came back, Alexander’s ears were ringing. His head spun. He tried to speak, but only a croaking sound came out. After clearing his throat.

“When?”

“An hour or two ago. He’s always been an early riser. But you didn’t seem inclined to let go, so he gave up.”

Mortification rolled down Alexander’s spine. “I didn’t,” he started, but Bellamy shushed him.

“He’s an early riser, but that doesn’t mean he can’t use the extra sleep. You’re going to wake him.”

The words made Alexander pause in his panic. “He just went back to sleep?”

Bellamy nodded, his grin growing a little wider. Alexander looked down at the man sleeping in his arms. Just a few moments ago, Aaron waking like this had seemed like an impending disaster. To hear that he had already woken and thought nothing of it left Alexander off-kilter. It was a relief, yes, but more than that it was confusing. A tentative smile started to spread across Alexander’s face as he watched Aaron sleep. As strange as it was, he liked the idea that Aaron felt safe enough to lie down like this. 

To Alexander’s dismay, only a few more minutes passed before Aaron began to stir. He shifted a little in Alexander’s arms, making a small noise. Before Alexander could wonder what to do, Aaron opened his eyes and stared sleepily up at Alexander - before a careless, easy smile spread across his face. The breath rushed out of Alexander’s lungs. The moment could have lasted no more than a few seconds, but that was more than enough time for Alexander’s heart to fill with longing. What would it be like to wake up to this every morning? Not just to Aaron, but to this Aaron, smiling and happy and content in Alexander’s arms?

The moment passed as quickly as it came. Aaron yawned widely, then sat up and stretched. As disappointed as Alexander was to see that smile disappear, he found an all new pleasure in watching the muscles work in Aaron’s back as he stretched. Alexander felt a flush spread across his face as he watched. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised you talk in your sleep,” Aaron told him. There was enough amusement in his tone for the words not to be a complaint, but not so much that Alexander found the words alarming. Aaron was far too relaxed for Alexander to have said anything too embarrassing.

“I’m not going to apologize,” Alexander told him. The words startled a laugh from Aaron.

“No, I expect you wouldn’t. Even if it did warrant an apology, I expect I’d die of old age waiting for one.”

Alexander pulled a face at him. It was one thing to be a morning person; it was another entirely to be chirpy. While Alexander was eager to rise when there was work to be done, he needed coffee to start his day. Today was no exception. It was only half way through his second coffee that he reflected on the morning and found himself disturbed by Bellamy’s behaviour. He had been polite, even kind, but that was not Alexander’s concern. His fear was the dreadful knowing look in his eyes whenever he caught Alexander near Aaron.

The thought bothered Alexander for the rest of the day. WIth nowhere to be until they left town the next day, Alexander took himself off to explore the town. The town may have been tiny, yes: but compared to the camp they had left, it was a bustling metropolis. 

It was mid afternoon when he returned to the tavern. Aaron had gathered a small crowd around him, gossiping and gambling. There was no room for Alexander to slide in and steal his attention, so he slipped away with a scowl. He found Bellamy outside, sipping whiskey and listening to the conversation drift from inside. 

“He does this everywhere we go,” Bellamy said when Alexander came out to join him. “By tonight, he’ll know every secret in town.”

“And he leaves you alone?”

Bellamy offered him a lazy grin and raised his glass in a toast. “Aaron’s working. I’m not.”

There was wisdom in that, Alexander decided as they clinked glasses together. They sat together in companionable silence - but with Alexander, no silence could last forever. After a few minutes, he began to squirm. After that, he could not hold back his anxieties any longer. The words spilled out, almost against his will.

“Don’t tell Laurens about this morning.”

“Which bit?” Bellamy asked. “The sleep talking, where you were adamant he was allergic to pancakes? Or about Aaron?”

The mention of sleep talking slipped by almost unnoticed. Alexander swallowed heavily. The mere mention of Aaron’s name was confirmation that Bellamy had noticed something. Even if there had been nothing obvious, there had been _something_.

“Aaron.”

When he dared look up, Bellamy had a gentle smile on his face. He reached over and squeezed Alexander’s shoulder gently. “I won’t say a word to anyone. But you’ll have an easier time if you’ll let us help.”

“You can’t get me what I want,” Alexander said bitterly. It was easier to focus on what he was denied than what he had. Acknowledging the generosity of Bellamy’s offer meant gratitude, and Alexander was in no mood to count his blessings. They seemed few enough, as he would have much preferred Bellamy to notice nothing. If only Laurens had fallen for an idiot.

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t. That part is none of my business. But coming to terms with what you want can be difficult. If you can, you should tell John. He’d want to help.”

“You mean he didn’t tell you?” Alexander blurted. Surprise flickered over Bellamy’s face, before he laughed.

“No. And I’m not surprised. This isn’t the kind of thing you gossip about. Neither of us will ever mention it without your permission. And while John does have a tendency to put his foot in his mouth, he’s not going to break a promise - especially not one to you.”

“I’m surprised,” Alexander admitted. “I wouldn’t have thought he kept any secrets, after what he did to stay with you.”

A wince stole over Bellamy’s face. He sat back in his chair and drained his glass, only to immediately refill it. After a moment, he refilled Alexander’s glass, too. “I’m not proud of my role in that. We did the wrong thing. You know it, I know it, John knows it. The only question left is if you forgive us - more importantly, if you forgive him.”

“Of course I forgive him,” Alexander said. He did not stop for even a second to think about those words. He was, therefore, caught entirely off guard when Bellamy raised an eyebrow. Anger flashed in Alexander’s eyes. The scowl on his face gave away all his offense, but Bellamy continued on calmly.

“Then you need to act like it. Do you really think he’d share your secrets like that?”

For a split second, Alexander hesitated. The hesitation disgusted him, and the disgust leaked through into his voice. “No.”

“Then please, don’t imply he would,” Bellamy said. The worst part, Alexander thought mulishly, was just how calm Bellamy was. If he had shouted or yelled, it might have been easier. Bellamy continued:

“I know what we did was wrong, and you have every right to be angry. But when you throw your insults and doubts at Laurens, you’re hurting him - and I don’t think that’s your intent.”

The argument that had been on the tip of Alexander’s tongue evaporated at the last few words. Anger and grief writhed under his skin, turning his emotions into a twisted mess. As they whirled together, he soon found he could scarcely name his feelings, let alone manage them. 

After a moment, Bellamy admitted, “He’d shout at me if he knew I was talking to you about this. He thinks he just needs to wait it out. But not talking was what got you into this mess in the first place.”

Alexander rubbed his hands over his face. “You’re not going to get me to talk to him about this. But I’ll try to ease off. It just spills out.”

“Thank you,” Bellamy said, and there was enough gratitude in his tone that Alexander took another drink to avoid making eye contact. He changed the topic after that, and Bellamy let him. By the time Aaron joined them over an hour later, the awkward conversation was forgotten. Aaron seemed utterly exhausted when he stumbled out, yawning widely and collapsing into the first chair he saw.

“You look like shit,” Alexander told him. To his confusion, Aaron only gave him a small hum of agreement. Off to the side, Bellamy started to laugh. Concerned, Alexander started to pester Aaron with questions, until Aaron reached up and put a hand over Alexander’s mouth.

“Alexander. While you may be able to run your mouth all day long without pause, I personally find it draining. Let me rest.”

Alexander gaped at him. It was quite possibly the rudest thing Aaron had ever said to him. It was also a severe disappointment. Talking to Aaron was one of his favourite things to do. With his favourite hobby barred from the menu, the evening started to look a lot more dull. He complained about this, but Aaron did not seem moved. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Every now and then he would let out a small hum to acknowledge something Alexander had said, but he never bothered to respond. 

As uneven as the conversation was, Alexander found he enjoyed the evening. There was certainly something agreeable about Aaron listening to his every word. It was no substitute for their normal banter, but it was not quite so disappointing as Alexander had expected. 

By the time they retired to bed, Aaron was barely awake. He needed Alexander and Bellamy’s help to stumble upstairs to bed, and barely remembered to toe off his shoes before lying down. Bellamy fell asleep shortly after. And if this time Alexander consciously pulled Aaron close to cuddle in his sleep - well, that no one but Alexander needed to know.

Returning to the camp was a peculiar experience for Alexander. He loved leaving the camp. Even if the towns they visited were small, there was a wealth of new experiences available to Alexander. He relished the chance to meet new people. Even better, he had access to newspapers, keeping him informed of the outside world. When he was very lucky, he would find stories about his friends apprehending infamous criminals. The reassurance that his friends were alive and well was a comfort, given he had no way of receiving word from them. 

His favourite part of leaving camp was the monopoly he had on Aaron’s. For reasons Alexander did not understand, Bellamy seemed content to let Alexander demand as much of Aaron’s time, attention, and affection as he pleased. It was a situation Alexander reveled in. Out on the road, there was no need to share Aaron with his family. Alexander could keep him focused on him the entire day, and that was exactly what he did. They talked and argued and laughed through the day, and through it all Alexander felt a selfish glee. 

Despite all this, he could not help but feel a flood of relief when they returned home. And it was home, now, very definitely: Alexander felt his spirits lift as they approached, and he found himself fantasizing about the small comforts he had come to expect there. 

Unsurprisingly, Bellamy was tackled by Laurens almost before he had dismounted. The force of the hug sent him stumbling back, and he might have fallen if Laurens had not been hanging on so tightly. The sight brought a small smile to Alexander’s face. The more time he spent with Bellamy, the more he found he approved of his relationship with Laurens. It was good to know his friend had found someone to share his whole life with.

What did surprise Alexander was when he was pulled into a hug shortly after. He returned the gesture, patting Laurens on the back and voicing his confusion.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come back,” Laurens admitted. Alexander hugged him tighter and said,

“You said that last time, remember? I’m not going to run away. This is my home now.”

Over Laurens’ shoulder, Alexander watched Aaron go still as he heard Alexander’s words. He said nothing, but when he walked away, Alexander liked to think it was with a spring in his step.


End file.
